Stages
by Mischievous.Eyes.9
Summary: Ryan and Taylor struggle to put their lives back together after the loss of their daughter.
1. Destruction

_Chapter One: Destruction_

* * *

**Basic Jargon:**

**Summary: **_New storyline after The Shake Up, season four._ A car accident takes the life of Taylor and Ryan's young daughter. They both have different ways of dealing with their grief. Taylor, fed up with Ryan's inability to look at her, heads to France and Ryan tries to put his life together in a way he couldn't after Marissa's death. With some much needed therapy, reflection, and eventual interaction, they may be able to pull themselves in the right direction.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** Another new fanfic. It's not like I have three more that I need to work on updating or anything. This was just another idea that kept coming into my head that I felt the need to write out. Hopefully you like it, hopefully you review. The first two sections of this story are Taylor and Ryan's sides of therapy sessions and the lyrics that break up this chapter are from _A Bad Dream_ by Keane.

* * *

I was fighting

But I just feel too tired

To be fighting

Guess I'm not the fighting kind

* * *

**March 30, 2009**

**Paris, France**

What am I supposed to say here? Am I supposed to admit something? Tell you that I think I should have stayed. Because I can't. I can't say that. I wish I thought that, you know? I really wish I did, but I don't. I would have drowned in Berkeley and not even Ryan, not even everyone's favorite knight in shining armor could have saved me.

Do I really think that? Of course I do. Of course I think that. It's better here. Paris is better for grieving. It's easier to get lost here. It's easier to lose yourself here and right now, that's what I want to do. I want to lose myself.

I'm twenty-one. In the states I'm barely legally allowed to buy a drink and yet I've had this life. This big, complicated life, with a mother who can't seem to decide whether she loves me or Cabo and a makeshift family and this guy. This perfect, great guy. Not perfect. No one is perfect and Ryan, well he has his moments of stupidity, but I mean, I think he was the right guy for me. Might have been the right guy for me. Could have been the right guy for me. I don't even know anymore. He quit talking. We quit talking and it's so hard to live under that scrutiny. That's not the type of scrutiny that you should be faced with from your spouse.

Not spouse. I didn't mean spouse. We weren't married. He asked me once, but I couldn't say yes. I barely knew him. I guess that's not true. I knew him. I liked him. I stalked him. I loved him. I thought we belonged together, but not like that. We'd barely dated. We'd been together a few months and it all just happened so fast.

I mean, it was New Year's Eve and we spent the whole day looking for Summer's missing pregnancy test and it never even crossed my mind. We were supposed to do everything but, but somehow we forgot the but. And I never even thought that we should use a condom because I had been a tad screwy my birth control since I'd gotten back from France and I mean, a tad screwy and totally screwy aren't the same thing either, so I guess I thought. I guess, I didn't think and then I told him and he did that noble thing, that I got the milk for free, but now I guess I should buy the cow because she's carrying my illegitimate bastard child thing. And I don't have a lot of self-respect, but I have more self-respect than that. I'm stronger than that.

I found the ring in his dresser drawer a few days before it happened. It was beautiful. It was so perfect and I don't know when he would have asked, re-popped the question so to speak, but I would have said yes. And then, it all sort of fell apart.

She was so pretty and I may not be perfect and Ryan may not be perfect, but she was perfect. Aurelia was perfect; blonde, beautiful, happy. She was so happy and I loved holding her at night. I loved the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way I could make her smile. The way I could protect her from so much, but I didn't do my job. I failed. I failed her as a mother.

I should have seen him. I should have known he was going to run that light. I should have been overly cautious. Mothers are supposed to be overly cautious. When the light turns green for them and they don't think anyone is going to do anything stupid, they're supposed to slow down anyway. It's the least I could have done. I should have been the slowest, most cautious driver in the world for her. She deserved that. Ryan would have done that for her. He's overly paranoid when he drives, has been since before she was born, has been since Marissa died. We always had this arrangement. If it was far and I drove there then he'd drive back and vice-versa. I should have driven there. If I drove there he would have driven back and then maybe he would have saw the car or slammed the brakes faster or been more cautious or gotten caught at another light or left a minute earlier or later. I don't know. All I know is that if it had been different, then maybe I wouldn't feel like I killed my daughter.

I know. I know. It's not my fault. That's what everyone says, even Ryan said that, but that's not how I feel. She was seventeen months old. She could walk and say a few words and she'd giggle when we laughed and she was so perfect. She had her whole life ahead of her and I was driving. I was driving the car that took her life. How can I not feel like it's my fault?

She had him wrapped around her finger. Ryan was such a great dad and when she died I feel like I shattered all the dreams he had. She was his world. She was my world too and really, what are you supposed to talk about? What are you supposed say when your world crashes and burns? We couldn't talk. He couldn't look at me. We wandered around that town hoping and praying we wouldn't have to cross paths. I'd work late. He'd work late. I'd stay on campus when I knew he was going home. He'd do the same.

You want the truth? The truth is I couldn't breathe there. In Berkley everyone would console me. Everyone knew. People would bring you things. Crap. Cards. Baskets. They'd bake you pies and bring you dinner, but what's the point of having dinner sitting in front of you if you can't eat? What's the point of going to class if you can't think? What's the point of trying to go on with your life some place where you can't breathe?

So yeah. I came here to the City of Light. A place I actually kind of know well and I'm trying to heal. Trying to move on with my life, because if I dwell on the past, if I think of my friends, my family, Ryan, they lead me to thinking about tiny coffins. Here I can think about baguettes and peach tortes and crème brûlée and it's all superficial, very superficial, extremely superficial, but it's one step forward.

And yes, I may be back to watching_ Bloodbath 4 _every night before I go to sleep and I may be avoiding some very important things, but I'm trying. At least, I'm trying to try. What should I be doing?

* * *

Wouldn't mind it

if you were by my side

But you're long gone,

yeah you're long gone now.

* * *

**April 1, 2009**

**Berkley, California**

I let her go. I didn't mean to let her go. I didn't tell her to go. I just couldn't look at her. It's not because I blame her. I don't blame her.

Okay. If I'm being honest about how I feel, how I'm feeling, maybe a little, maybe I blame her a little. I'm not trying to blame her. It's just not something I can control. It's subconscious and it's not her fault. It's not her fault and it's not my fault and I don't blame her anymore than I blame myself.

I shouldn't have rushed. My mom was in Reno for a couple of days and we went there to meet her. She'd never met her - my mom, she'd never met Aurelia and so we were doing that thing, that family vacation thing. It's rare that I actually know where she is, so it was nice, and she got along with Taylor. Don't ask me how. I don't know; but they wanted to get coffee. They wanted to go out for one final drink. There was this coffee shop on the corner and the whole thing would have taken ten, twenty, thirty minutes tops, but I wanted to go home. Classes started the next day and I just wanted to go home. Who knew how many times we'd have to stop on the way back because of the baby, who knew if she'd even sleep that night. I was trying to do the most logical thing. But if I hadn't, if I hadn't had done the logical thing, if I had just sat there and smiled and drank my coffee and held my daughter, maybe we wouldn't have been at that exact stop light at that exact time. Maybe it would have been someone else's tragedy.

I knew she was leaving. I could tell she was leaving. She was tired of it. She was tired of me ignoring her. She was tired of us dancing around the issues. She was tired of me not looking at her. I tried to look at her. I did. I tried, but they had the same eyes. Taylor has these unique eyes, they're amber. How many people do you know with amber eyes? And Aurelia had them too. My blonde hair and Taylor's eyes. And every time I looked at her, every time I tried to talk to her I felt like I had blood on my hands.

Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it's like to look at someone and see a seventeen-month-old staring back at you? It'll drive you insane, drive you to tears. When I was eighteen and Marissa died I didn't think I'd get over it. I carried her. I held her in my arms, I felt the life drain from her body, but life went on. I tried to prevent it from going on, tried to get the shit knocked out of me, tried to ignore my family, tried to go on without them, but it was them that saved me.

I never thought anything could be worse than that, but sitting with Taylor in that hospital room, holding her hand, telling her that it would be okay, that it had to be okay. That was worse. That was about a million times worse than when Marissa died and when they told us, when they told us there was nothing they could do, that was about a billion times worse.

I held Taylor when she broke down in tears. I held Taylor when we put our daughter into the ground. I held her until I couldn't look at her anymore. I held her until she retreated into the one room I can't go into. When Marissa died I ran away. I left the Cohen's. I retreated into my own little world, but when Aurelia died, I couldn't leave. I couldn't retreat. I needed them. I needed Taylor too, but it's hard to expect something from someone you can't talk to, someone you can't look at. So she left. She did what I did a few years ago, except, she really left. She didn't become distant like I became distant. No. She left the continent so she couldn't become distant like that.

Do I love her? Of course I love her. I've loved her since she stalked me in a groundhog costume and I've wanted to marry her for over a year. I've wanted to put a ring on her finger for the longest time, but I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be perfect the way our trip to Vegas wasn't. I wanted it to be perfect the way our life seemed to be, but nothing's perfect and I should have asked. Don't ask me why I was going to wait until Valentine's Day, I don't know. It just seemed clichéd enough. Not that that would have helped. How could it help if I couldn't even look at her? It's not like a ring could have changed that. Could it?

The point is, I knew she was leaving, I just hoped she'd say goodbye. Would that have been too much to ask for?

* * *

And I'm thinking about those days,

And I'm thinking about those days.

* * *

_Taylor fainted at the sight of blood. She had told him that when they were still in the rubble of her former bedroom. He just wasn't sure where she'd seen blood, he'd managed to hide his from her well. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. He was supposed to reconcile with Taylor and the two of them were supposed to talk about what the future held for them or do something that released tension under her covers. They weren't supposed to be in the hospital. There wasn't supposed to have been an earthquake. Seth wasn't supposed to have given him blood. Pancakes and Veronica weren't supposed to have matching casts. Kirsten wasn't supposed to have fallen, she wasn't supposed to lose her baby. He wasn't supposed to wake up to hear all this and he certainly wasn't supposed to wake up to hear that Taylor had passed out and was in a room like his somewhere else in the hospital._

_"Hey." He greeted, entering her room quietly._

_"Hi." She replied softly. It looked as though she had been crying._

_"Are you okay?" He asked as he sat down in the chair next to her bed._

_"Yeah. I'm fine. Peachy really, peachy keen." She tried to fake her usual enthusiasm. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I mean you're the one that lied about being hurt."_

_"I'm fine. I'm not the one that fainted at random and looks like she's been crying."_

_"Nothing. It's just – this whole day. This is not how I thought the day would go. Poor Kirsten. Poor Sandy. Poor person who died. I shot my mom in the foot with a flare gun. That's not how this was supposed to go. It's all just been a bad dream."_

_"Tell me about it." He added, giving up his seat and sitting on the side of her bed instead, "But it'll be okay. I'm sure everything will be okay in the end." She looked like she was going to start crying again. "Whose blood did you see anyway?"_

_"What?" She asked confused._

_"You faint when you see blood."_

_"Oh." She sighed. "No one's."_

_"Then why did you …?"_

_"You covered me during the earthquake. Protected me from the earthquake and it was all very noble, but your weight and the cupboard's weight, it was a lot of weight._

_"And that caused you to faint hours later?"_

_"Kind of. They did some tests when you were out of it." Taylor shook her head. "The pressure. I don't know. There was trauma or something."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_She bit her lip. "You know how Summer thought she was pregnant on New Year's." Ryan nodded. "Well – I didn't think I was pregnant, but I kind of am."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"You knocked me up and when you protected me from the earthquake the pressure was almost too much for the impenetrable fortress of my womb. I don't know. Something like that." Taylor sighed. "I didn't hear much past the 'You're pregnant Ms. Townsend' thing."_

_"You're pregnant?"_

_"I guess I am." Taylor inhaled sharply._

_"You're pregnant?"_

_"Please don't ask that again." She shook her head. "I wish I had a different answer, but I don't."_

_"And the baby's fine?"_

_"Yeah." She sighed, "But I on the other hand am not. If anyone asks about the fainting, when I left my mom's room I ran into a guy who cut himself on some glass in the earthquake and was bleeding, okay?"_

_"This is not a happy day and as such, it's not a day for happy news. Not that this is happy." She paused. "But to some people it would be worth congratulations or that whole cute talk thing and I can't handle that right now. Could you? Plus, Sandy and Kirsten lost a child tonight. We just can't bring it up."_

_"I understand." Ryan took a deep breath. "But I could think of much worse news." He squeezed her hand tight and a smile almost cracked through her closed lips._


	2. Contact

_Chapter Two: Contact_

* * *

'Cause I confide in wolves at night

Have you seen my baby girl?

She's lonely, so lonely.

* * *

_Taylor sat on the couch and inhaled and exhaled slowly. She was listening to them. She was listening to the way the words sounded coming from their mouths, the way they articulated each syllable. It was probably her turn to speak. Everyone else had spoken up and now it was probably her turn. The problem was she didn't feel like talking. She was listening, but she wasn't hearing much of anything. Ryan was staring at her. She could feel his eyes on her. The problem was she couldn't look at him. "Taylor?" Someone asked._

_"Huh?" She murmured, her knees pulled into her chest._

_"How do you feel about all of this?" Sandy asked._

_"What?" She inhaled slowly and her eyes fell to Kirsten. Poor Kirsten. Poor Kirsten Cohen who miscarried her birthday surprise. She frowned. Poor Taylor Townsend who could have gone to the Sorbonne or Oxford but was now stuck carrying Ryan Atwood's child. "Right. The house. You're houseless, homeless and that's certainly not a good thing to be. Your house was gutted and you'd like to stay here while they work on it and you want to know what I think about that. And you moving here would mean Seth moving here and of course Ryan moving here and how do I feel about that?"_

_She stopped talking. Sandy looked at her. "Taylor?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"How do you feel about that?"_

_She looked like she was going to say something. Her lips moved, her fingers moved with them, but she was still thinking. _

_"It's good. It's a good idea." She finally said. She stood up. "Excuse me." She told them, exiting the room in a hurry._

_Everyone in the room's eyes followed her. Watched her legs start off slowly and then pick up speed in a matter of seconds. When she was gone, out of sight, they turned to Ryan. They weren't sure who should speak, but telepathically they elected Seth. "Care to explain what's up with Taylor?" Ryan didn't respond. "Do you know what's up with Taylor?"_

_"I wasn't aware anything was up with Taylor." Ryan shrugged._

_"Really?" Sandy asked. "That wasn't anything?"_

_"She's Taylor." Ryan sighed. "She has her moments."_

_"Really? 'Cause I've seen Taylor's moments and I don't know what that was." Seth informed him. The two looked each other in the eye for a moment, Seth wanted the real story and Ryan could tell he expected to hear it later._

_"I'll go talk to her." Ryan offered. He stood up and headed to her room. It's not like he didn't want to talk to her. He did. He wanted to talk to her, he just wasn't sure of what to say. What was there to say? Then again, what wasn't there to say?_

_"Hi." He greeted when he opened her bedroom door._

_"Hi." She replied, sitting on the bed with something in her hands. Ryan didn't have to ask what it was. He knew. It was the ultrasound. She looked at him to shut the door; he obliged._

_"Look – we'll figure this out." Ryan told her. It was the only thing he could think to say. He sat on the edge of her bed and tried to smile at her._

_"Figure what out Ryan? What is there to figure out?" She asked him confused. "We're going to have a baby. It's pretty simple. Simple to say. In like six or seven months you and I will be parents. That is unless you want to nip this whole thing in the bud." He looked somewhat disappointed. "Right. See I don't know you that well, but I thought that was something you'd be against."_

_"And you're not against it?"_

_She shrugged. "I'm nineteen. I'm indifferent." She rolled her eyes. "I'm barely nineteen."_

_"We'll figure it out." She stared at him blankly. "I promise. Even if that means I have to …"_

_"Have to what? Quit school?" Ryan nodded. "Oh no. You don't get off that easy. I'm not Theresa. I'm not going to try and force you to come with me wherever I decide to go in the future and I would never, ever, ask you to quit school. Here's what we're going to do, okay?" She looked him square in the eye._

_"We're going to go to Berkeley. I can defer the first semester in my field. I'll defer the first semester. We'll live in an apartment. You'll go to school. I'll get a job or there's always my dad. I mean - my dad may show his new dog more affection than he's ever shown me and I may never see him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a lot of money and feel the need to buy my affection." Taylor paused for a second, her mom had just admitted that she loved her, and she wasn't ready to lose that just yet. "So what if my mom will probably cut me off and stop speaking to me all together. That's why you have two parents and then there's my college fund. We could dip into that if we have to and you could get a job too. Work on campus. I don't know. That much we can figure out in the future." Taylor bit her lip. "The point is it's not my job to screw up your future. If you intend to do that, you can keep me out of it."_

_"Wow." Ryan said thinking it over. He fell into one of the pillows by Taylor's head. "Should you really be in here?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Cause I'm pregnant?"_

_"No." Ryan asked. "Should anyone really be in here? It's been cleaned up a little, but still seems like there's some work to be done, it's probably not the safest place to be. Broken glass."_

_"You're moving in right? I mean that's what they were saying. You can fix it up." Taylor smirked. "The Cohens can't afford a hotel for how ever long that structural stuff takes?"_

_Ryan shrugged. "But there is nothing like family."_

_"How's Kirsten?"_

_"Okay. I guess." Ryan put an arm around her. "She'll be okay."_

_"Is that your answer for everything?"_

_Taylor could feel him nod. "Yeah, because it will. Everything will be okay." He took the picture from her hands, "Even if life is ten times harder. Everything will be okay."_

_He put the sonogram on the nightstand. "Twenty times harder." Taylor elaborated._

_"Thirty."_

_"Fifty."_

_"One-hundred."_

_She smiled. "Lets not get ahead of ourselves."_

* * *

'Cause I confide in wolves at night

I'm like a virgin losing a child,

So lonely, so lonely.

* * *

**April 2, 2009**

**Paris, France**

I went to dinner last night. Foie gras. Frog legs. Mussels. A raspberry soufflé. It kind of went to waste. I certainly can't eat that much and it's not like I had anyone to share it with. If we were in Berkeley, Ryan and I would have shared. At least, we would have in the past. Would have before the accident. I'd order obscure things, things I didn't think he'd eat in a million years and he'd prove me wrong. He'd always prove me wrong. Chicken liver wrapped in bacon. Whatever. Atwood men are tougher than that.

He still hasn't called. I thought he'd call. Don't ask me why. I just thought. I didn't change my number. I didn't change anything. If he needs me he can contact me. He can call. He can write. Maybe not write. He could fax, he could email, he could instant message, but he can't even do that. He can't talk to me. I thought that space might be good for us. You weren't there; you couldn't feel that tension. I thought that if I left, if we didn't have to look at each other, run around that stupid apartment trying not to acknowledge the other's existence things would get better. He reminded me of her and I reminded him of her and I thought if I wasn't there I couldn't remind him of her and he couldn't remind me of her and we could move on.

Not move on. I don't want to move on. Aurelia was my world. You can't move on from that. Twenty years from now I'm still going to remember the way she said 'mama.' I'm still going to remember how cold she felt when she died. It's not like you can just forget things like that. It's not like you can just get over something like that, I just want to move past it. Move forward with my life. I want to be able to get married in the future. I want to be able to get married and maybe have another kid without her eyes haunting me. Now when I close my eyes she's the first thing I see - in all her splendor and beauty. The second thing I see? The guy that killed her. The third thing I see? The way Ryan looked at me on the way to the hospital. You didn't see that look. He can say he doesn't blame me all he wants, but that look says otherwise. That look brings me to tears. I can't remember the last time I didn't cry myself to sleep.

"It's all going to be okay. It has to be okay." He told me that. He held my hand. He held me in his arms and he cradled me. He cradled me like he cradled her when we brought home from the hospital. He was wearing his Berkley sweatshirt. The blue one, blue with white writing, his favorite – my favorite for that matter and he held her in his arms. She was tiny and he carried her like he was protecting her from the world, the big bad world that would eat her up and spit her out again. The last time I felt like everything was going to be okay, he was cradling me like that, protecting me from the big bad world. The last time I felt like everything was going to be okay, my daughter died and the big bad world started eating me up. I just want to know if it intends on spitting me out. Sometime soon would be nice.

* * *

You swear you did what you could for my eyes

And I'll try something, try nothing, try anything.

* * *

**April 3, 2009**

**Berkeley, California**

She called Summer yesterday. She hasn't called me once since she left and yet, she called Summer. Told her how great France was, asked how things were here, asked about me. I know Taylor, she's avoiding things, so she's avoiding me. She can lie to Summer a lot easier than she can lie to me.

No. I haven't called her, but I am not the one who left.

Do I miss her? Of course I do, but I'm not the one who gave up and left the country. I'm not the one who packed her bags and left when I was at school. I'm not the one who put a note on the counter and left without saying goodbye. She needs some space? Fine. I need some too and if space is what she wants, space is what I'll give her.

I guess, the problem is I don't really want to give space. I say that, but I don't mean it. I really don't, but if she was here right now I'd be giving her space unintentionally. Are ignoring and giving space the same thing? Can they be the same thing?

Why do I think that is? Why do I think I unintentionally ignore my girlfriend – ex-girlfriend – whatever she is? Again, it's hard to say. I guess it's hard to pay attention to a person when it's hard to look at them.

I used to know how to fight. I used to be good at fighting. It was a strength of mine really and then the drama kind of went a way. Life sort of fell into place and I stopped having to fight. I didn't have to protect Seth anymore and Marissa was dead, not really much protecting there. I lost my drive and then things spiraled out of my control again. I just don't think I have it in me anymore. I couldn't fight if I wanted to.

Do I want to fight? Well – for Taylor I do. I just don't think I can anymore. I let her go. I let her think I blame her. I don't blame her anymore than I blame myself. I blame myself more than I blame anyone, I blame myself the most.

I lied to her. You tell people it's going to be okay, that it has to be okay, but nothing has to be okay. I should know that. I was born to a mother and father who didn't exactly try to make everything okay.

But the thing is, I wasn't just lying to her. I was lying to myself too. I lied until I believed what I was saying. I sat in that waiting room. I sat with Taylor and I convinced myself it would be okay. It had to be okay and after a while I knew – I was so sure – that that doctor would come out and say that she was fine. They repaired the damage, no more internal bleeding. They were going to come out and tell us that they'd keep her for observation, but in a day or two we'd be able to take her home. We were going to hug and smile and when Kirsten and Sandy came with their fifty questions, Taylor was going to laugh through her tears. We'd had so much luck. I just didn't think you could lose luck that quickly. I probably should have known better.

* * *

_Song: Wolves at Night by Manchester Orchestra_


	3. Apart

_Chapter Three: Apart_

* * *

Today I'll crawl out of bed.

I can't stand; your shadow is too heavy to lift.

* * *

_They lived in close quarters and every morning at breakfast, the circus would begin. Eight people rushing to start their days, no matter how full or empty they were. Bedrooms were shared, bathrooms, drawers. Ties were strengthened. Secrets were kept. There was no denying that there were secrets. Seth could them in Ryan's eyes, could hear them in Taylor's voice, in the way that ring sparkled._

_"Ryan!" Seth greeted, watching as he poured himself a glass of water. "Feels like I haven't seen you in ages."_

_Ryan raised an eyebrow and looked at him confused. "I see you everyday."_

_"Well – we haven't talked in a long time. We used to be good at talking. Me in long rambles and you in grunts, we should get the ball rolling again."_

_"Are you and Summer having problems?"_

_"Summer and I. No. No." Seth paused. "It's not me I want to talk about."_

_Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I have to work."_

_"You've been doing that a lot lately."_

_"Is there something wrong with that?"_

_"No." Seth pulled a small box out of his pocket. "But there may be something wrong with this."_

_"Where'd you get that?"_

_"I was going to the store and I grabbed your coat by mistake, put my hand in the pocket." Seth looked Ryan in the eye. "Maybe not the best hiding place."_

_"Looks that way."_

_"It's a wedding ring."_

_"And since it's not for you, you should probably give it back."_

_Seth handed it to him. "You really want to marry Taylor?"_

_"So what if I do?"_

_"I don't know - because Marissa died less than a year ago, because you barely know her, because she's Taylor and you're Ryan and that could even be a match made in heaven or a big mistake, only time will tell." Seth paused. "If you ask me you should take that ring back."_

_"Good thing I didn't ask you."_

_"What ring?" Sandy asked, entering the kitchen._

_Ryan tightened his grip on the box. "Huh."_

_"What ring?" The black fuzz in Ryan's hand caught his attention. "Can I see?"_

_Ryan's mouth didn't open. No words fell from his lips. He could have lied, but he didn't. He loosened his grip and let Sandy take the box from his hand. He was tired of lying._

_"This is an engagement ring." Sandy noted._

_Ryan nodded. "Why on Earth do you have an engagement ring?" Sandy questioned._

_Ryan tried to think of the right thing to say, the right words. After a minute, he tried to say anything. Tried to make sound come from his lips, but it wouldn't. He was a silent statue. Sandy Cohen had turned him to stone._

_Kirsten walked in on them, noticed the tension, but ignored it. She smiled. "I have some news."_

_"Join the club," Seth muttered._

_"I'm going to ignore that for a minute." Kirsten's smile widened. "Can you think back to a month ago for a second?"_

_"When you locked yourself in your new room for a few days and then came out and started obsessively cleaning everything?" Seth questioned._

_Kirsten ignored him. "Well, in the wake of all that had been happening here in Newport, I sent in a few job applications for some work elsewhere."_

_"You what?" Sandy questioned surprised._

_"The earthquake got me thinking and I just wanted to see what was out there."_

_"And?" Sandy asked._

_"I got offered a job." Her smile widened. "A very good job, running an art gallery in San Francisco."_

_"Art gallery?" Seth looked at her confused._

_"I majored in art history."_

_"Right. Wow." Seth commented. "San Francisco."_

_"Actually – and I know moving is something that would require lots of thinking but – the Berkeley house is for sale."_

_"You're kidding?" Sandy's eyes widened._

_Kirsten shook her head. "I was curious, so I looked at some real estate and there it was."_

_"The Berkeley house." Sandy repeated, excited by the words._

_"Sometimes, in the end everything ends up as it should." Kirsten and Sandy shared a look, both nostalgic for their past._

_Kirsten noticed the box in Sandy's hand. "What's that?"_

_"That?" He looked in his palm. "It's nothing."_

_"Sandy." Kirsten warned, she knew her husband, could tell when he was lying, knew when nothing meant something. She took the box from his hand and looked inside. "This is an engagement ring." She said confused. "Why do you have an engagement ring?"_

_"Obviously it's not mine." Sandy told her._

_She turned to her son. "Not mine either."_

_They stood silent for a minute, but before Kirsten could ask another question, Sandy spoke up. "It's Ryan's."_

_"Why does Ryan have an engagement ring?" The two brunettes shrugged. "Ryan, why do you have an engagement ring?"_

_He stared at her as silent as ever. He opened his mouth hoping this time words would come pulsating out of it, but then he heard her voice. "Morning all!" Taylor happily greeted. Ryan quickly took the ring from Kirsten's hand and shoved it into his pocket. "Morning." Everyone but Ryan replied, lacking any and all enthusiasm._

_She looked at the people gathered in the kitchen, studied the tension, their lack of motion. It was as if someone had frozen them in time. Ryan's eyes cut into her. She turned her head. "It's not like you could cut the tension in here with a knife or anything." She grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. "Anyone need anything from the grocery store?"_

_They didn't respond. "Because that's where I'm going." She elaborated. They stared at her. "Well, if you change your minds, you know how to get in touch." She bit into the apple and headed out the back door._

_Sandy, Kirsten, and Seth once again focused all their attention on Ryan. "Marriage isn't just something you rush into," Sandy told him._

_"And if you were to marry Taylor, that's what you'd be doing." Kirsten elaborated. "Rushing. You've only really been dating what four months? Five at the most."_

_"And Taylor's a tinge eccentric." Sandy paused. "You'd probably want to know how eccentric before you committed to marry her."_

_"I have to go to work." Ryan finally managed to say after the room quieted down again._

_"You're too young to get married." Kirsten added. "You have your whole life ahead of you. You have plenty of time to get to know Taylor Townsend and Taylor's rushed into marriage before. I'm sure it's not something she wants to do again. It's not like she's dying or anything."_

_Ryan downed the rest of his water and put the cup in the sink. He sighed heavily. "Taylor's pregnant."_

_"That explains a lot." Seth muttered._

_"She's what?" Sandy and Kirsten asked in unison, the surprise not at all hidden in their voices._

_"She's pregnant. It's mine. That's why I've been working extra hours and that's why I'm contemplating asking her to marry me." Ryan paused. "Anymore questions?"_

_No one responded. "Then if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work." He headed towards the front door. "And to tell Taylor not to come home before me." He added in a mutter._

* * *

Maybe we'll go for a ride,

You said you'd take me nowhere,

I said that suits me just fine.

* * *

**April 7, 2009**

**Berkeley, CA**

She smiles. She tilts her head at me, just so, and she smiles. The sun is shining and her teeth just sort of glimmer, just sort of shine in the light. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and starts humming. It's a song I know, I know I know it, but I can't place it. Her right hand squeezes my thigh; as if reassuring me that everything will be all right if we're together.

Suddenly, a thought comes into my mind, a terrifying, awful thought, and I turn to the back seat to make sure that we are in fact together and there she is. She giggles, she giggles and her hands kind of fly about, as if she's excited about something. The best thing I've ever done is looking back at me and smiling this amazing smile. Her smile, it breaks my heart, not because I'm sad – because I'm happy. I'm so happy. She's so happy. We're all so happy. She breaks my heart because I know I can't promise her that. I know I can't promise her a lifetime of happiness. I know I can't promise her that everything will be okay forever; my heart breaks because I know what the world is like.

This is all in slow motion. All of it: Taylor's hair sort of flying in the wind, Aurelia's hands kind of clapping together and then I see it. I see it out of the corner of my eye. This truck, it's coming towards us and I try to yell. I try to warn Taylor, but no sound comes out of my mouth. Taylor looks in that direction, but she can't see it. I'm the only that knows we're going to crash. She squeezes my leg again and that optimistic smile is still on her face, telling me not to worry. I look back at Aurelia and I can see it on her face, I know I'm not the only who knows something bad is going to happen. She knows it too. She's not smiling anymore. She's terrified. I'm terrified, but Taylor can't see it. I try to unbuckle my seat belt, try to get to the back seat and save my daughter from harm's way, but this is super slow motion. I wouldn't have time. I'd never have time and I can't get free. Something is holding me back. My silent screams are doing nothing, I'm trapped, there's no way out. I close my eyes; I surrender.

I don't feel anything, I think for a minute that I've imagined it all, but then I know I haven't. I open my eyes and suddenly I'm on the outside. I'm on the road looking at our car - broken, flipped, glass falling on the concrete. I expect to hear crying, but I don't. I expect to hear screams, but I don't. They're dead. You can't scream when you're dead.

Then I hear this woman's voice saying, "This is _your_ fault." I never see her face, but she sounds like Marissa. How I remember Marissa sounding, at least, but I never know for sure her identity. She pushes me hard and I stumble into this sudden burst of traffic.

I always wake up as this car swerves. I wake up sweating, my pulse racing, unable to move. It's like I'm paralyzed. My mind is only processing memories. I see Taylor sitting on the side of our bed watching me sleep or pretend to sleep. I see our daughter's first steps. I hear her first words. I see Seth and Summer holding her in the hospital. I see all of us around the Cohen's Christmas tree. I see life as it was. I see the life I used to have. I miss that life. Not that I need to tell you that. That I'm sure you know.

I lay there for a while. I try to go back to sleep, but I can't and the few times I can, it's the same dream.

I've started running more. When I get the strength to get out of bed I go for long these long runs, when I'm running I don't have to think about anything, when I'm running my head stops spinning.

Marissa died three years ago. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it wasn't. It has only been three years. I can still remember how it felt holding her in my arms. I can still remember how it felt when her life was draining from her. I couldn't go to her funeral. I tried, but I couldn't. Aurelia's body felt heavier. We carried her casket and the whole time all I could think was that Aurelia, our little Aurelia seemed to weigh more than Marissa Cooper did.

I know she didn't. I know it's all in my head. I've always heard about children's coffins being so lightweight, as if they were never there, but when we buried her, I don't know, her weight bogged me down.

I couldn't visit Marissa's grave. I tried to go, but I always ended up some place else. I couldn't bear the thought of her being dead. Now I go. Not to Marissa's grave. She's at the other end of the coast. I go to Aurelia's grave. I go and sit there and talk to her like she hears me, like she understands what I'm saying.

It probably sounds weird, but if I stare into that epitaph hard enough, I can pretend she's there. I can pretend she's in front of me. I can pretend we're all together. I can pretend we're a family again. In Newport I'd run on the beach, in Berkeley I run to the cemetery.

* * *

Love survives only when we are apart.

Your voice still sounds in my ears,

Soft explosions that blossom with the beat of my heart.

* * *

**April 8, 2009**

**Paris, France**

I thought when my mom found out I was pregnant she would get rid of my trust fund. I was sure of it. My mom's like Jerry Maguire before the epiphany and this is going to make me sound selfish, like some spoiled little brat, but I thought I deserved it. The pain she put me through growing up, the way she barely acknowledged me, the way she ridiculed me, over the years I came to figure that she may not love me, but at least I was getting something out of the deal. Now I know that she doe. In her own weird way she loves me, socially awkward Taylor Townsend. Obsessive stalker Taylor Townsend. _Me_.

And I couldn't tell her. I couldn't bear to tell her, because we were finally kind of on the up and up and she was going hate me. Tell me what a fool I was. Disown me for real. Honestly, I couldn't bear to tell any of them. Words failed me with all of them, but then it didn't matter too much, Ryan told them all for me. God, I was so mad when he did that. I remember sitting there, listening to them talk to me, but not hearing any of it because all I could do was stare at him. All I could do was think about how mad I was at him.

That night I just laid there. I laid there and he started this spew about how it had to be done, about how he couldn't keep lying. I didn't respond. I think that was the first time I really heard him speak, not speak, but continue on. By nature Ryan is this blunt man, but when he was apologizing to me, he was so articulate, so calm. I think it was somehow in that moment that I realized we'd persevere; we'd make it through. We could survive. And we did. We were tired and more stressed than most people our age, but we were happy, so happy. At least, I was happy. I was happier than I'd ever been before. I think it was in the past few years that I finally realized what happiness was.

When I told her, let's just say I didn't have to tell her. Let's just say that she knew when she saw me and if she hadn't been able to tell she would have been blind as a bat – blinder than a bat. After the earthquake she went and worked in New York for a few months with a friend of hers, while Newport got put back together and every time we talked, not that we talked often, the words just wouldn't come out of my mouth. I just couldn't tell her my situation. Ryan Atwood is not the guy I was supposed to end up with. In the world of Veronica Townsend, I'm supposed to stand up straighter, have more friends, marry an investment banker, live in some grand apartment, have this amazing job – or no job, in the world of Veronica Townsend, I could easily be a housewife. I'm supposed to have the perfect life; the perfect life that she could never obtain and guys like Ryan Atwood don't have perfect lives. Delinquents aren't acknowledged in her world, unless they're football players. Not that I think of Ryan as a delinquent. It's just; I guess he kind of is, guess at one point he was.

When she saw me, I could see it in her eyes. Her heart, I broke her heart. I broke it with reckless abandon, but she didn't disown me. She helped me get a hold of the money she had put away for me, the money that my dad, whose face I barely remember sometimes, put away for me. She showed me more love then she'd ever shown me. Granted it was angry love, angry, crushed, Veronica Townsend love, but she proved to me that she really did care. Despite her spur of the moment trips to Cabo, her criticism, the way she made me hate myself, feel inadequate, she cared.

When Aurelia was born she came to Berkeley and she held her and called me out on our small apartment and my sub par parenting skills. And at one point it would have bothered me. It would have crushed me, but then I realized that was mother and I couldn't change who she was, who she was always going to be. I think the only time she's ever been soft and affectionate with me was when Aurelia died. She held me, she let me ball in her arms. We laid in her hotel room for hours upon hours and she just held me. She held me the way I would have held my daughter.

She changed in my eyes and I'd like to think I changed in hers, for the better. Because I have. I've changed. At least I thought I had, but last night I called him. Last night I called him and I sat quietly on the other line listening to his voice, listening to him realize it was me and then repeat my name, try to get me to talk. He called me back, but I didn't answer, I probably should have, but I didn't.

He only called once. Would it be wrong for me to say I expected more of him? That I expected my phone to mock me until I had to answer it? Probably, but all I know is sitting on the other line, breathing, not talking, I felt like I was in high school and I promised myself a long time ago that I'd never go back to that state of mind again.

* * *

_Song: Rise by Azure Ray_


	4. Home

_Chapter Four: Home_

* * *

You mean that much to me

And it's hard to show

Gets hectic inside of me

When you go

* * *

_It had been twenty-four hours since the fallout and she still wasn't talking to him. He found her in her room curled up in the fetal position. He tried not to make any parallels, tried not to spend too much time thinking about their situation. The mess they'd gotten themselves into. He knew that she must have heard the door open, but she didn't look up. "I know I keep saying this, but I am sorry," he told her softly. _

_Their encounter with everyone still ran through his head. She had every right to be angry. She went out to get groceries and came home to an inquisition. And as much as this was his fault, as much as this was his reality too, she was at the center of it all. She was the person to whom the questions were posed. The one who was asked to deal with the reality that was a baby. He was merely asked to be there for the ride and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't protect her and he didn't like that. "I am really sorry." He took a seat next to her on the bed, she turned to face the other direction._

"_Taylor." He begged. "Can we please just talk about this? You're going to have to talk to me sometime." _

_She sat up and stared at the doorframe. He stared at her face, watched the way her nostrils flared, the way her lips quivered. He could see the path the saline took down her cheeks. "What is there to talk about? You told them. We said that we wouldn't do that. We said we'd wait until we were both ready. We said we'd do it together. And you. You. Urgh. You know that worst part Ryan, I thought we were a team. I thought in the last two months we'd grown to be partners and that having a kid was going to be okay, because we could work together." She bit her lip. "Just wishful thinking on my part, I guess. But that's Taylor Townsend for you, too socially awkward to handle reality – has to spend her time daydreaming the perfect situation." _

"_Taylor." He tried to get her to look in his eyes. She refused. "This wasn't about us. This was about me cracking under the pressure. That's all. Don't read too much into it." _

_She rolled her eyes. "Don't read too much into it? You obviously don't know me at all."_

_He suppressed a laugh. She hit him less playfully than he would have liked. "Taylor, look at me." She obliged. "Everything is going to be okay. I was weak. We're not weak. I just got sick of lying. That's all and I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I can't, but it's okay. Together we're going to make it okay. Besides we weren't going to be able to hide it much longer." _

"_What's that supposed to mean?" _

"_Nothing." _

"_Don't 'nothing' me Ryan Atwood. What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_Just that you're four months pregnant." He said matter-of-factly. _

"_And?" _

"_And last week Seth asked me if you'd secretly gotten breast implants." _

"_Seriously?" He noted the sudden cheeriness in her voice. "I was starting to wonder if anyone noticed." _

"_They're hard not to notice." He informed her. "They really command your attention." _

"_Really? Because you haven't been…" _

"_I have had other things on my mind." He smiled and tried to reason with her sensuality. "But maybe now that we don't have to worry about telling everyone we can … relax." _

"_You can't worm your way out of this that easily Ryan." She averted her gaze. "I spent yesterday evening being interrogated. You got to tell our secret and didn't have to deal with the fallout." _

"_You know me." He sighed. "Do you really think that's what I wanted? I love you Taylor." Her heart melted. "I love you and if I could take this all back I would, but I can't and right now all we can do is get past it. The secret is out and despite what just happened, we both have to deal with the fallout." He took a deep breath. "We're going to have a baby." _

"_We're going to have a baby." She repeated with a nod. _

"_Everyone had to find out sometime." _

"_Everyone had to find out sometime." She wiped the tears from her eyes._

"_Look, I may not have been able to stop that ambush earlier, but I promise I am going to make sure that everything is okay." _

"_I don't need you to make that promise." He grabbed her hand and felt the sweat radiating from her palms. _

"_I know. I want to." She let her head rest on his shoulder and they fell into the headboard. His arm wrapped around her and silently they told themselves that everything would be all right. It had to be all right._

* * *

Can I confess these things to you

I don't know

Embedded in my chest

And it hurts to hold

* * *

**April 14, 2009**

**Berkeley, CA**

You were right. She called me. All I had to do was wait it out. She called me and sat on the other line silently. I tried for five minutes to get her to respond, to say anything but she jut sat there like a mute. After everything we've been through she couldn't even say that she made it to France okay. I guess I understand though, because the only thing I wanted to tell her was that I love her and I couldn't even do that. I heard it in my head, but I couldn't articulate it. Maybe that's why she couldn't say anything – why talk when I am as emotionally closed off as ever.

Sure. She was weak for sitting on the other line quiet as a mouse, but I wasn't any better. All I did was ask her to talk to me. I didn't say what I really wanted to say. I didn't ask her to come home. I didn't tell her that I missed her. I tried to coerce her into talking to me, but all I was really doing was trying to avoid saying what I needed to say. All I was doing was putting the burden on her. I know that now, but in my defense Taylor has always been the talkative one. The only reason I am the person I am today is because of her. Before her I was a closed book, but when the person you're with is always open about their feelings and always expecting and encouraging you to be open with them too, you change. I changed and all I'm doing is reverting back to my old ways.

I don't want to go back to my old ways, but she's not here and things aren't the same. I miss her and I know that I can't make things go back to normal. I know I can't raise the dead, but that's all I want to do. I want my family back and Taylor should be enough. I mean, Taylor is enough. She really is. It's just that in my head I see things how they were meant to be and it wasn't meant to be just me and her. It was meant to be her, Aurelia, and me. I mean things happen for a reason and so there had to be a reason that Taylor got pregnant the first month we were dating. This can't be it. She wasn't born so that she could die less than two years later. What purpose could that serve?

I keep thinking back to when I found out that the baby was going to be a girl. Taylor had a smile from ear to ear. She wanted a girl. I hadn't really thought about it, but the moment they said girl my heart stopped. A miniature Taylor? I thought I'd be a constant disappointment. I grew up using my fists not my words. I thought I'd never connect and I think deep down I thought that for either sex, but for a girl more so. Then she was born and I couldn't imagine a world without her. The only thing Taylor and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt when she got pregnant was that even though we were young, we were going to try harder and be better parents than either of us had had growing up. I went into hyper drive the moment they put her into my arms. I wasn't going to let anything happen to her. _Anything_ and I didn't. I mean I guess I never did, but that's really not how I feel.

I can't even go into the nursery. I can't do it. I can go to her grave. I can do that fine, but I miss my life. I miss our life and that room is the symbol of it all. She said her first word in there. It was "dadda" – an oldie but a goodie. Taylor and I used to camp out on the floor in her room and study while she slept.

The living room wasn't the center of our house that room was, because Aurelia was the center of our world. So as much as I want to call Taylor and tell her that I love her, that I want her to come home, that I want to make her my wife – I can't because I can't imagine our world without Aurelia. I love her regardless, want her home regardless, want to marry her regardless, I just can't imagine what that looks like and that worries me.

* * *

I couldn't spill my heart

My eyes gleam looking in from the dark

* * *

He met Sandy during his office hours. He knocked lightly on the door, cleared his throat to announce his presence, and created massive confusion for the student Sandy was meeting with, as she was quickly ushered out and he quickly in. The long conversation on Torts they'd been having brought to an abrupt end.

Sandy gestured for him to sit down, he obliged. They sat in silence for a moment. "Haven't heard from you in a little while." Sandy eventually said. "You missed dinner last week."

"I know. I've been…" Ryan wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to say that he'd been busy, but that would have been a lie. His life certainly wasn't busier now than it had been when she was alive. If anything, he was under whelmed. "I've been avoiding everyone."

"Understandable." Sandy nodded. "But we're here for you. We're always here for you."

"I know." Ryan agreed. "I've just been trying to deal with it all. I mean, Taylor left. And I thought I could deal with it, but I guess I can't."

"You shouldn't have to. Everything that happened, it shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't have to be dealing with anything you are, no one should. But you don't have to hide it from us. We understand. We know how hard it's been."

"I know." Ryan shook his head. "Look. I didn't want to take much of your time, I was just wondering if I could come home. I am going crazy alone and I was hoping I could stay at the house for a while." He inhaled sharply and added, "Just a little while."

Sandy half-smiled. "You're always welcome home son. Always."

"Thanks." Ryan wished he could seem more grateful than he did. He wished he could smile, do anything to ease the tension in the room, but he couldn't. He was too numb, too depressed, too tired.

"Matter of fact, I'll call Kirsten now have her make up your room." Ryan knew what this really meant, knew that he was really going to get her to put away anything that would remind him of his girls – his Aurelia, his Taylor. In that moment he was grateful for small favors.

"Sandy?" Ryan waited for their eyes to meet. "Thanks for everything." He paused for a second and added cautiously, "You're a really great father."

"So were you." Sandy noticed the tears welling in Ryan's eyes and while he knew that he wouldn't let them fall, he also knew what their presence meant. He wanted to lighten the mood. This time he managed a full smile. "For dinner, Mexican or Chinese?"

* * *

I walk out in stormy weather

Hold my words, keep us together

Steady walking but bound to trip

Should release but just tighten my grip

* * *

_"You're going to have to leave your room at some point." Ryan said, getting dressed for work._

_ Taylor's eyes narrowed. "Want to bet?" _

_ "Well, if we bet then I'd just stop bringing you rations and you'd really have to leave." _

_ "No. You wouldn't." _

_ "Why so confident?" _

_ "Because I'm pregnant with your child. And you might not bring rations for me, but I know you'd bring them for it." _

_ "Got me there." He kissed her on the cheek. "But seriously Taylor, you need to leave this room." _

_ "Name one reason?" She folded her arm across her chest. _

_ "Because you can't go on avoiding everyone. Because you're going to rot your brain if you watch another one of Summer's The Valley DVDs. Because it's not healthy. Because I know you and you need to get mixed up in other people's personal business and you can't do that in here…" _

_ "Something pressing." She interrupted. _

_ "We have a doctor's appointment at four. And you know, as I much as I like hanging out in here with you and acting out scenes from A Season for Peaches – I would like to take you out on a real date. Preferably before you have our baby." _

_ "Fine. Then I'll leave here." He looked at her hopefully, "At 3:30. No sooner."_

_ "This is getting ridiculous." He sighed. _

_ "Is it Ryan? Is it?" She'd started to cry. "A year ago, I was valedictorian and going to the Sorbonne. And now? I mean in the course of a year, I've dropped out of school, gotten married, gotten divorced, gotten kicked out of my mom's house, overstayed my welcome here at Julie's, and gotten pregnant. I mean, no reason they judge me. I'd judge me." _

_ "No one is judging you." _

_ "They don't look at you the same way they look at me." _

_ "Taylor." He wiped a tear from her eye. "No one is judging you." She shot him a look. "And if they were, so what? This is our mess, we've figured it out, and…" He stopped himself short. _

_ "And?" _

_ "And I'm happy." _

_ "You're happy?" She choked out in reply._

_ "Yeah." He nodded._

_ "Even though I pretended to be your sleep therapist, rented Roger the homosexual, ruined your New Year's plans and left you at an alien rave, told my ex-husband that you wrote a series of articles on the origins of skepticism, stalked you in a groundhog costume, and now you're stuck with me because you knocked me up." _

_ He kissed her passionately. "I'm not stuck with you. I want you. I'm happy. Aren't you?"_

_ She nodded. "Yeah… just hormonal." _

_ "Then prove it. When I leave, get up, go downstairs, and be the Taylor that I know and love. They're not judging you. But if they were, who would care?" _

_ "That's very rational and level headed." _

_ "Well, I've learned a thing or two in the last year." He put an arm around her and felt her burrow her head into his chest._

* * *

Night time

Sympathize

I've been working on white lies

* * *

**April 15, 2009**

**Paris, France **

When I was growing up, I hated going home after school. It was weird actually, I hated school and I hated my house, but that was all I ever had. Harbor and 3210 Harbor Drive. School was the lesser of the two evils. At school, I got to learn and I had teachers who liked me. Or, at the very least, pretended to like me because none of the kids ever did. And at home, I had no one. I had a mother who was never there and berated me when she was. I wasn't even allowed a dog.

When I was twelve, I played a lot of World of Warcraft. When I was thirteen, I watched a lot of anime. When I was fourteen, I started learning new languages. When I was fifteen, I lost my virginity and started translating French love poems. When I was sixteen, I spent my time studying for the SAT. It worked. I got a perfect 2400.

Where other girls had sleepovers. I had Star Trek on VHS, then on DVD. I was seventeen before I made my first real friend and I kind of forced her into that. I started off as an enemy. Then I became a frenemy. Then I became a friend. Then Marissa died. Then I became her best friend. Then I had Aurelia. Then she became my sister.

I guess, what I'm trying to say is that most people start out with a home and a family. They start out with love and have a built-in support system for when they lose the love they try to make later on. I, on the other hand, made my home. I made my family. The problem is, Ryan and I made the same family. He made it first and they really adopted him. He became their son. All I did was latch on so tight that they couldn't get rid of me, but if they wanted to, they could phase me out. Him though? They could never phase him out.

Ryan had a harder childhood than me and he was rewarded properly. It's just now, I don't know where to turn. I'm sure they understand. I'm sure they don't judge me. I just know that their loyalty is to him first of all. Their concern is for him first of all. We both had to forge our own homes. He just made his stronger than I made mine.

I did what I've always done. I built my life around obsession. Ryan is everyone's favorite protector and so I let him protect me. I let him protect me and I built my life around that one act. And now where can I turn?

Ryan can't look at me, so the most logical choice was to turn away from him. But what do I do now? I made my home in Ryan. What do I do without a home?What do I have? The Eiffel Tower? I was proposed to on the Eiffel Tower. I hate the fucking Eiffel Tower.

The reality of the situation is that I don't have anything. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't have a daughter. I don't have a family. I don't have a home. The minute it happened I wished it had been me. I passed out in the ambulance with Ryan passing judgment on me. I'd broken my rib. I woke up in the hospital with Ryan telling me they were about to take her into surgery. I moved when they told me not to. I discharged myself, even though they advised against it. I looked at her sleeping body – tiny, bruised. In that moment, you could barely tell she was still alive, but she latched onto one of my fingers with her hand. I watched them wheel her off for surgery. I did all this, watched all this, and the whole time I just wished it had been me. I should have been near death. A broken rib wasn't enough. I should have been the one on the operating room table. I should have been the one that eventually flat lined.

That's all I think about now. I made my family. She was born into hers. They'd never leave her. She'd never have to feel the way I've felt. She'd never have to feel as lost as I do now. It should have been me. Ryan was a great father. He would have taken such great care of her. He'd probably marry at some point and she'd be banal, but banal girls had families. Banal girls weren't damaged like Marissa, aren't damaged like me.

When I wear heels, I interpret the tapping on concrete as it-should-have-been-you. It mocks me and I'd do anything to change the outcome. I'd do anything to go back and die for her.

* * *

So I'll tell the truth

I'll give it up to you

* * *

_Seth had always told her how stealth he was, but walking through that house she knew she had him beat. She was doing what Ryan had asked. She had left her room and was on a journey to the kitchen. In her head, she knew he'd been asking her to be normal, to interact with his family, her family – all the people that had been nice enough to take the two of them in. She knew this, but in her heart she didn't care. In her heart she knew she couldn't bear to feel like a pariah. So what if it was all in her head? Taylor Townsend was used to things being in her head. Taylor Townsend had never been good with "normal" and at that moment, the more people she could avoid, the better. _

_She succeeded in her mission and found herself alone with all the stainless steel. She grabbed a knife from the middle drawer, the peanut butter from the pantry, raspberry jelly from the fridge and bread from the bread box. She was finally going to give in to her cravings. The past few days, the only thing she had wanted to eat was peanut butter and jelly. She didn't understand it; didn't even like peanut butter. She had tried to toss the craving aside, to avoid dealing the fact that it highlighted her pregnancy and the ways her body was starting to change, but she couldn't anymore. _

_This was her new reality. She couldn't run from it anymore. She dipped her knife into the peanut butter and slowly smoothed it over the bread. _

"_Peanut butter and jelly?" She heard someone ask. Not stealth enough after all. She looked up. It was Kirsten. Poor Kirsten who lost her birthday surprise._

"_Yeah." Taylor avoided making eye contact. "I just had a craving." _

_Kirsten smiled. "When I was pregnant with Seth, I lived off of peanut butter and jelly. Don't think I've had it since. Can I join you?"_

"_Yeah." She took out two more pieces of bread. "Of course."_

_She bit into her sandwich and watched as Kirsten started to make hers. "How are you doing?" _

"_Fine. I mean, the whole baby thing is a lot to get used to, but I guess I'm doing fine. A little disappointed in myself maybe, but fine." She paused and bit her lip. "Fine, but also terrified." _

"_I remember that feeling." _

"_Ryan and I have an ultrasound this afternoon and I want to be excited, I do. But I just know that after it it's going to seem that much more real." Taylor wasn't sure how honest she could be with Kirsten, with herself. _

"_And?" _

"_And I don't know how much more real I can handle it being." She started to cry again. She was starting to feel like that that was all she knew how to do. "My mom's in New York. I haven't told her. Not that I want to tell her, but how real can it be without a Veronica Townsend diatribe? I'm just not ready to face reality and I feel horrible about that." _

_Kirsten looked at Taylor sympathetically. "It's going to be okay. I mean, I felt the same way, but Seth turned out alright."_

"_Uh-huh." Taylor nodded through the tears. _

"_You know Taylor, I could… I mean, I want to… could I go with you and Ryan this afternoon?" _

"_You don't have to do that Kiki." _

"_I know. I want to. This is my grandchild after all." _

"_Right." Taylor dabbed her eyes with a paper towel. "Of course. You should come." She guessed Ryan was right after all. Kirsten passed no judgment on her. "I want you to come." _

_They ate their sandwiches in silence, but after a moment Taylor couldn't contain herself. She pulled Kirsten into a hug and couldn't let go._

* * *

I couldn't spill my heart

My eyes gleam looking in from the dark

And I walk out in stormy weather

Hold my words, keep us together

Steady walking but bound to trip

Should release but just tighten my grip

* * *

He looked around the room. It was emptier than he remembered it. There used to be a crib in the corner. A chest of toys next to the dresser. There used to be a picture of Aurelia's first Chrismukkah. A picture of him, her, and Seth taken on the day she was born. A picture of Taylor in that hospital bed with a smile plastered on her face, their bundle in her arms, and him kissing her forehead. The latter was his favorite. He still had it in his wallet – would probably always have it in his wallet.

He wanted to stay with his parents because he was tired feeling alone, but looking around at how empty the room was he felt more alone than ever. A few hours ago he had wanted the reminders gone, but now he regretted that decision. He needed them – needed to know it hadn't all been in his head; that his life hadn't been a lie.

What he really needed though, was Seth. Seth and Summer. They were both in Providence. He would give anything to be there right now, to have his brother to turn to for advice. It would be painful for all of them, but it might also be therapeutic.

Summer would probably break down in tears the second she saw him. Taylor used to text her a picture a day. It was the only way she had agreed to do G.E.O.R.G.E. During the summer months, Summer came over to their apartment every morning. Her and Taylor had become sisters the way that she and Marissa had been sisters, the way that Seth and Ryan had become brothers. And Summer had been the best aunt that anyone could ask for.

Seth would keep it inside, try to maintain a brave face. He'd overcompensate with pop culture references and corny jokes. Then one night when they were out alone, he'd just fall apart. There would be tears from both parties. After they had pulled themselves together, Seth would probably joke about how he never thought he'd see Ryan Atwood cry.

He needed that. He needed Providence.

He sat in bed with the lights turned off. The last time he'd slept in here, she'd been with him. If he put his head near her pillows, he could smell her. He'd been trying to avoid her scent.

At midnight, his phone rang. He looked at the Caller ID. It was Taylor. His Taylor. The love of his life. The mother of his child; his dead child. He answered it on the second ring. "Taylor?" He questioned. She didn't say anything. It was a repeat performance. "Taylor say something. Please. Just say anything."

Silence.

"Taylor. I…" He paused. "I miss you. I miss you everyday and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He wanted to tell her to come home, but those were words he couldn't get out. "I love you." He managed. He said the word cautiously, scared of getting his heart broken. The silence continued.

"Ryan." She finally said. "Ryan. I love you too." Her voice was calm and collected. His was shaky.

They sat silently on their respected lines. "Ryan?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"I should have said goodbye."

"Yes. You should have."

With that the line went dead. With that his eyes went back to the ceiling. With that the tears he hadn't let Sandy see began to fall.

* * *

_Song: Night Time by The xx_


	5. Feeling

_Chapter Five: Feeling_

* * *

The piano is not firewood yet

They try to remember but still they forget

That the heart beats in threes

Just like a waltz

And nothing can stop you from dancing

* * *

_She put her feet into the stirrups warily. She eyed them the way her mom always eyed her outfits, with a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Maybe I could just bend my legs onto the examination table or something." A shiver came over her as she retracted her feet from the metal contraption. "More dignity."_

_Ryan squeezed her shoulder. "It won't be for very long." _

_She scoffed. "That's easy for you to say." _

"_Taylor is right." Kirsten spoke up from the corner of the room. "A minute in those things feels like a lifetime." _

"_See." Taylor nodded with enthusiasm. "No uterus, no opinion." _

"_Uh-huh. Face it Atwood, as rough as you've had it, you're never going to understand just how hard it is to be a girl." Summer added looking up from her magazine. _

"_I guess not." Ryan sighed turning his attention back to Taylor. Near mutter he added, "As much as I appreciate the support, how did this appointment go from yours-and-mine to yours-mine-Summer's-and-Kirsten's?" _

"_Well, Kirsten wanted to see her grandchild and I couldn't exactly say no to that. I mean I'm glad someone's excited. My mom used to tell me that when I had children she'd visit them after they turned five and were, I quote, 'domesticated'." _

"_She was probably exaggerating, I mean she raised you." _

"_Veronica Townsend does not exaggerate. She uses her own logic and it's ridiculous logic, but it makes sense to her. Besides, she didn't raise me. Isela from Guadalajara was there from when I was born until I was six and then Svetlana from Vladivostok was there until I was twelve. Veronica was just the figurehead. She didn't actually do much of anything." _

_Summer inched closer. "I love you Taylor." She dropped her magazine onto the chair next to her. "Just thought I should say that. Help make up for all the times you didn't hear it growing up. I have a hug for you too." _

"_Aw. See? Summer wanted to come and what was I supposed to say? No? Not to a friend like her. Besides, since the earthquake any excuse to get her to shower is a good one." Taylor's voice progressively softened as she spoke. _

"_Yeah Atwood, it was this or another thrilling installment of Briefcase or No Briefcase." _

"_Svetlana and I used to watch the Price is Right," Taylor mumbled with a tinge of nostalgia in her voice. _

"_Come to my room," Summer told her. "There's a Barcalounger with your name on it." _

"_And Toaster Strudels?" Taylor asked excitedly._

_Summer nodded. _

"_I think the goal is to get both of you out of your rooms and away from the television." Kirsten reminded them._

_Before either of the girls could respond, the door swung open. "Hello again, Mr. and Mrs. Townsend." A cheery voice greeted. _

"_Still not married," Taylor informed her, slipping her feet back into the dreaded stirrups. _

"_Right. Of course." The doctor made a note on her chart. "Ms. Townsend and Mr. …" _

"_Atwood." _

"_Ms. Townsend and Mr. Atwood. Sorry for the confusion there. How are we feeling today?" _

"_Good." Taylor managed a smile. _

"_Good." Ryan mimicked. _

_The doctor noticed the other people in the room. "I see we have some visitors today." _

"_Yeah. Well it's sonogram day, our family got a little excited." Ryan said. _

"_Certainly a good thing to be excited about. I am Doctor Meadows." She greeted. "Let's take a look shall we. Taylor, if you want to lift up your shirt."_

_Taylor shot Ryan a look. She certainly didn't want to lift up her shirt. She was all for compliance but want and need were two different things. She pushed her blouse up toward her breasts. She wondered if anyone else noticed the way her body had begun to change. She saw it saw how she'd become rounder, but no one had commented. _

"_This is going to be a little cold." The doctor warned squirting the ultrasound gel on her belly. _

_Taylor got goose bumps. It hadn't been a lie; the gel was cold. The doctor moved the transducer around her stomach. She showed the baby's feet with their ten toes. Each of the hands with their five fingers. The side profile. The circumference of the head. _

_Taylor marveled at how perfect everything seemed. Ryan squeezed her hand, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. "We usually wait a few more weeks to do this, but I have a clear view and I am certain I can tell you the sex. Do you want to know?" Dr. Meadows asked. _

"_We hadn't talked about that." Taylor looked up at Ryan. "Do you want to know?" _

"_Do you?" He asked her. _

"_I asked you first." Taylor teased. _

"_I, um." He stared at her hoping to read her for a response. "Yes." He eventually managed. _

"_Yes?" She asked._

"_Yeah?" He repeated tentatively. _

"_Okay." She said enthusiastically. She turned to the doctor. "We want to know." _

"_You are having a very healthy little girl." _

"_A girl?" Taylor felt her heart melt. _

"_Yes. I am positive. It's a girl." _

_Summer squealed, a huge smile broke across Kirsten's sealed lips, and tears of joy welled in Taylor's eyes. _

_Ryan squeezed Taylor's hand again. He was the only one that wasn't sure how to feel._

* * *

Rise from your cold hospital bed

You're not dying

Everyone knows you're going to live

So you might as well start trying

* * *

**April 17, 2009**

**Berkeley, CA **

Last time we talked, I told you I thought I was reverting to my former self. Pre-Taylor. Well, it's official. I'm back.

I punched someone today. The last time I'd punched anyone was November. November 2006. It was Kevin Volchok. Sandy drove me to his hotel room and told me he trusted me. I barged in, went crazy with rage for a minute and then I calmed. Then he was arrested. I remember that I kept telling everyone that I wasn't going to kill him and somehow I convinced them, but I really wasn't so sure. It wasn't until I was there that I knew. But I got in a punch, a solid punch.

Today it was different. It wasn't vengeance. It was just a feeling that I couldn't control. There's this obnoxious guy in my French class. Actually, just about everyone in that class is obnoxious, but I needed a language and Taylor speaks French. Matter of fact, she was going to teach Aurelia French, going to raise her to be bilingual. That last bit isn't really important though.

The point is, this guy, Henry, is always telling jokes. He thinks he is hilarious and I guess other people do too, because they always crowd around him. I don't think he's funny at all. It's not Seth's humor, not irony or self-deprecation. His jokes always have a theme. Today it was dead babies.

He probably didn't know. I've never tried to be friends with any of them. The people in Engineering and Drafting know, but I guess word doesn't travel that fast to the humanities and Berkley is a big school. He doesn't know my life story I get that. I do, but I was livid. Throughout class he was the only thing I could think about and when we were dismissed, I followed him. I probably wouldn't have done anything but he was at it again. "What's funnier than a dead baby?" I didn't hear the punch line. I tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned around I punched him. I wouldn't be surprised if I broke his nose.

I didn't move. I stood there. He could have retaliated. He didn't. He just looked at me. They all just looked at me. Eventually, I went to the Dean of Students but nothing happened. They were sympathetic. No one is pressing charges. They suggested I get counseling. I told them I was already seeing someone. They said if it weren't so close to the end of the semester, they'd ask that I take a leave of absence. They'd already suggested I do that though, months ago.

I was back at school a week after it happened. I have no idea why. I mean, I was in shock and I thought if I did everything normally, maybe things would be normal. Didn't work. Nothing is normal. But it was go to classes or be alone with my thoughts. I didn't think I could handle the latter.

Point is, I made a bad decision but nothing came of it. You know, all crime no punishment. I think that's unfortunate, because when I hit him I felt something. I felt alive for a minute. It's horrible, I know. I mean I completely understand that. And I just think if there would have been some consequence I wouldn't feel like doing it again, but there wasn't and I do.

The only other time I've felt alive lately was after Taylor called. She actually spoke this time. She told me she loved me. She told me that she should have said goodbye. That's all she said. Then she hung up. It was bittersweet, but I got to hear her voice. I got to feel my heartbeat. I got to feel the agony and defeat. I got to feel the tears go down my cheeks. For a minute, I wasn't just numb.

The point is, I think I am ready to feel. I think I am ready to work through the emotions. To move … on? No. No. Not on. Forward. I think I am ready to move forward, but I think I need her to do that. She's the only one who understands and we should do it together. We need to do it together, but I don't know how to get her to come back home.

* * *

Don't look so shocked

Don't judge so harsh

You don't know

You are only spying

Everyone knows it's going to hurt

But at least we'll get hurt trying

* * *

_Ryan was wiping off a table when he came by. Seeing him in his all black get up, for a minute it felt like the earthquake had never happened. Any distance he'd felt between them for the past few months' non-existence. He imagined what that world would look like for a minute. His mom would be pregnant. Ryan would be in the pool house. He would be in the room he'd grown up in. The comic book store would still be open. Summer would have gone off with G.E.O.R.G.E. Taylor's breasts would be normal sized. He supposed in actuality that not having an earthquake wouldn't have changed that, but it was his fantasy and in it Taylor was as pregnant as he was. _

"_Hey man." Seth greeted. _

_Ryan looked up. "Hey." The rag didn't leave the table. _

"_Got a minute?" _

_Ryan thought it over. Since it's reopening the restaurant was busier than ever. In his head he had complied a list of things to do. A list of things that might get him closer to a raise or a big tip. He didn't have time for a break. He was trying to provide for his family and he took the job very seriously. "Not really." _

"_Come on man. It's the late afternoon lull. I'm just asking for a minute." _

"_Fine." He dropped the rag on the table and walked over to him. "What's up?"_

"_Just wanted to check in." _

"_You just wanted to check in?" Seth nodded. "We couldn't have done later, when I was at home?" _

"_I don't know. You tell me." Ryan looked confused. "We haven't been talking much lately. You come home and go straight to Taylor. I figured, least I could do was seek you out myself." _

"_Right." Ryan wanted to go back to his work. He looked over to the table he'd been cleaning. _

"_You know, Luis told Dad you hadn't been taking your breaks. So just take a minute, tell me anything going on in your life." _

"_Um." Ryan shrugged. "I went with Taylor to the doctor earlier today. Found out that the baby is a girl." _

"_A girl?" Ryan nodded. "How do you feel about that?" _

"_Not so great." He said, not masking the shame in his voice. "I mean Taylor seemed happy, which is great because Taylor has been having a hard time lately. But I don't know. I think a girl is a little scarier than a boy." _

"_Right." _

"_Just more fragile."_

"_I think babies are equally fragile." _

"_I suppose." He nodded. _

"_But you think you'd have an easier time with a boy." _

"_Something like that." _

"_This wouldn't have anything to do with Marissa would it?" Seth questioned. "I mean, she hadn't really been in a good place when she died." _

"_No. She hadn't." Ryan agreed. _

"_You're not worried that you're not going to be a good father and lead your daughter to have Marissa sized problems, are you?" _

"_No." Ryan said, eyes shifting to look at nothing in particular. _

"_Good. Because you shouldn't be. You'll be more of a Sandy than a Jimmy or Frank, and I don't know what Taylor is, but she's not a Julie or Dawn. That's for sure." _

"_Right." _

"_It's going to fine." Seth assured him. _

"_Yeah. Thanks man." He paused. "I have to get back to work, but do you want to go see a movie or something tomorrow night?"_

_Seth smiled. His mission had been a success._

* * *

The piano is not firewood yet

But a heart can't be helped

And it gathers regret

Someday you'll wake up and feel a great pain

And you'll miss every toy you ever owned

* * *

**April 20, 2009**

**Paris, France**

I think maybe I should start by apologizing for last week. I might have gotten a little melodramatic. I mean, I meant what I said, but I have this tendency to exaggerate things.

I can't really articulate what I am trying to say here. I mean, I want to go back and save my daughter. I'd give up my life for hers. All of that is true. I just think the language I used wasn't the best. I have a tendency to get overdramatic.

I don't really know why. Probably because I didn't get much attention growing up, but I don't want to get into that now. We've spent enough time on that life for a while. We've spent enough time on 3210 Harbor Drive. I think we need to get back to Ryan. To Ryan and me. If there's one thing I want to talk about this week, it's us.

I called him last week. I called him and he told me that he missed me. He told me that he loved me. He didn't tell me to come home. Maybe I cut him off too soon. I don't know, but if he had said it I might have got on the next plane to San Francisco. I might have went back and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I want to go back. I want to be with Ryan. I want to tell him that we can make anything work. I just want to feel that first. You know? I want to mean it. I want the words to be easy, to be a symbol of our new life. I want us to be able to make a phoenix rise from the ashes, but if I went back at his words would anything have changed?

We had so many problems after she died. I mean, we have so many problems. On the one hand, I want to know that he misses me. I want to know that he wants me back. On the other, I don't want to feel obligated to go back just yet. When I go home and I face that world, I want to know that things are going to be different. That we'll make lemons into lemonade or something like that. I want to know that we can find a new path together and go down it _together._ I need to know that he can look at me and that I can talk to him. That I can say what I really need to say and not just get lost in the idea of him. I want reality and not fantasy. When I married Henri-Michel that was me living in this fantasy world and I won't go through that again. I can't fall that deeply into a life and realize that we built it on a cracked foundation.

After she died, the doctor prescribed me a number of pills. Better living through chemistry and all that, so some of my memories from that first month are a little hazy, but I remember my birthday vividly. Ryan didn't know what to do. I didn't want to celebrate the big twenty-one. He didn't either. I think we were both too busy dying inside.

There I go again with the drama. Point is, Ryan tried to do something. He really tried. He bought a cake from my favorite bakery and got a bottle of wine. He set the dining room table and got take-out from my favorite restaurant. If Aurelia hadn't been dead or if there had never been an Aurelia, I would have cried at the gesture. Instead, I just cried. I tried for a minute, but I couldn't deal with any of it. I told him that I didn't want a birthday. I told him that I never wanted a birthday again. I told him that I didn't really feel alive and as such, I just wanted to be dead.

He stopped trying after that and I didn't even bother to do anything for his birthday. To make matters worse, I flew off to Paris the next week. I guess the point to all this is that I love him. I love him so much, but when I go back I need to feel ready. I need to feel like we can make it work. I need to feel that we both just won't continue to shrivel up and become shadows of ourselves.

I want the Ryan Atwood I fell in love with two and a half years ago. I want to be the Taylor Townsend that he took a chance on. If that isn't possible then I want to be as close to those people as we can be. I don't want to be old before our time. I don't want to be bitter. I want to be ready.

I just worry that I won't feel ready anytime soon. I worry that he'll get sick of waiting for me and that he'll move on without me.

* * *

You'll want to go back

You'll wish you were small

Nothing can slow the crying

You'll take the clock off of your wall

And you'll wish it was lying

Love what you have and you'll have more love

You're not dying

Everyone knows you're going to love

Though there's still no cure for crying

* * *

_She felt his eyes on her before she opened hers. She imagined them for a minute, the very thought of those piercing blue irises bringing a smile to her face. She pretended she wasn't confused, pretended that Ryan Atwood was the kind of person that watched people sleep. He wasn't._

_She was. They'd been dating six months and the number of times she'd woken up early just to watch him was already well into the double digits._

_She stretched, opened her eyes, and flashed him a smile. "Morning." She greeted._

_"Morning." He replied his eyes still glued on her._

_"What are you doing?" She giggled turning to face him._

_"Nothing."_

_"Nothing?" She mocked._

_He smirked. "Nothing... I was just… You're just pregnant."_

_"I thought we already established that." She said slightly confused._

_"We did. We did." He assured her._

_"But?"_

_"It's just now it's … obvious."_

_"Obvious?" She said the word slowly, trying to digest its meaning. "Like I'm fat?"_

_"No." He chuckled. She started at him. "No!" He assured her. "It's just we've been dealing with the whole baby thing for a while and now it's obvious. It's real."_

_"Is that good or bad?"_

_He shrugged. "It's better."_

_"It's better?" She questioned. He nodded. "I like that."_

_"Yeah?" With her affirmation, he moved in closer. "How much?" With that she pressed her lips into his. She slid her hands under his shirt and slowly started to pull it up; it was quickly on the floor._

_She broke away from him and stared at his chest. She might have been rounder, but he was as muscular as ever. He started kissing her neck. "How obvious?" His lips started moving down her body._

_"Hmm."_

_"How obvious is obvious?"_

_He looked at her stomach. "Not very."_

_"Are you just saying that to make me happy?"_

_"Does it?" She stared at him. "I'm not." Her eyes rolled back into her head. "I'm not! Besides, you wear a lot of black."_

_"It's a very nice color on me."_

_"And I've been working a lot, so we'll go out at night." He nibbled her neck._

_"The cover of darkness."_

_"Let them talk. We'll be gone soon anyway." His lips were by her breasts and heading to her naval._

_"Far, far away."_

_"400 miles."_

_"A seven hour drive."_

_His lips stopped at her bump. He pulled back and stared at it for a minute. She watched him; he looked dumbfounded. He moved back toward it, closer still and a smile spread across her face as he whispered to it. "Hey." He pushed her shirt up and put a hand on her exposed flesh. "Hey in there."_

_Taylor's smile continued to grow. He looked at her face and pulled away warily. "What?_

_"Did you feel that?" She asked._

_"Feel what?"_

_"She moved. She must like your voice." He smiled without restraint. She could see the excitement in his eyes._

_She hadn't been expecting that. Then again, neither had he._

* * *

_Song: Firewood by Regina Spektor_


	6. Return

_Chapter Six: Return_

* * *

Shadows settle on the place, that you left.

Our minds are trouble by the emptiness.

Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time.

From the perfect start to the finish line.

* * *

He always checked his messages after runs. He'd head up the stairs in a hurry hoping that she'd called. Breath heavy from eight miles of feet pounding pavement he hoped for the release of her voice. He wanted to hear the way she said his name. He always imagined her saying it without hesitation, like the way she'd said it the day they brought Aurelia home. She laid her down in the bassinet and walked over to grab his hand. Falling into him she whispered his name in a trance. "Ryan," as if to say look at what we did. Look at how perfect she is. He knew that her voice wouldn't be near as dreamy this time, but he wanted the directness of it. He wanted to know that she had wanted to talk to him; that she was really there and not a desert mirage. When he thought about it for a while he realized that he probably wanted too much.

He grabbed a towel from the linen closet and patted his face dry of sweat. He peeled off his shirt and dropped it in the hamper as he entered the room. Grabbing the phone off his desk he dialed his voicemail and put the phone on speaker. He punched in his password. Taylor had never known this, but it was the date of Kaitlin's party – the night they'd played seven minutes in heaven. She probably didn't realize that he could be that sentimental. Hell, he hadn't realized it either until he found himself programming the numbers into his phone. One. Two. Zero. Six. That night had ended up meaning so much to him. It has been the beginning of a new life. A life not held back by revenge or regret, teenage insecurities or overblown drama. With her, Chino and Newport had collided. He got the best of both worlds. No false pretenses. A life more ordinary – where his girl wasn't a borderline alcoholic drawn to drama like a moth to a flame, wasn't his adoptive half-aunt, the cousin of that surfing tragedy, or a childhood crush who didn't fit in his new life just as he didn't fit in her life, their old one.

The automated voice gave him hope. "You have one new message," it teased. He knew it'd most likely be Seth, maybe even Summer, but he let his heart skip a beat.

"Ryan." The message greeted. The voice was gruffer than Taylor's but still feminine, still familiar. "It's me. Theresa. I guess, I shouldn't say it like that. I mean, what's it been … three years? Wow. Look, I had a friend of mine at Berkeley look you up in the student directory. She doubted your information would be there, but low and behold." He couldn't help but smile at her awkward chuckle. They had grown up together, but now they were little more than strangers. "Look, I am going to be in the area for business from Thursday until Monday and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a drink. Catch up. My number is 909.545.6504, call me. I am not going to say maybe. Call me Atwood. It's been too long."

As the message ended, he wanted to pound his head into the wall beside him. Theresa Diaz was calling him. A girl he hadn't spoken to since the day after prom; when she told him that he was seeking out too much drama, that she couldn't expose her son to that. This ghost of his past life was assertively asking him out for a drink and yet, Taylor couldn't be bothered with a meek "I think we should talk." The woman he not too long ago had envisioned marrying, was fading away.

He wrote down Theresa's number from the caller id. If Taylor was going to become a phantom soon, the least he could do was corporealize one of his ghosts of girlfriends past.

* * *

And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky one

'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

Setting fire to our insides for fun

Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong

The lovers that went wrong

* * *

_The Cohen house had been condemned. It was official, they were moving to Berkley. They were going to live in the house where Seth took his steps and said his first words; the house where the saga began._

_Taylor was excited to move out of Julie's and to work with Ryan to find a place they could call their own. She was tired of overstaying her welcome. She was going to be a mother after all. How responsible could she seem, giving all her problems to others to solve? _

_She was beginning to realize how much stuff she had accumulated over the last few months. She looked at the boxes covering her floor and sighed. She was headed toward a new life, but the old one was coming with her. It was mostly clothes; clothes that no longer fit. Her hand instinctively fell to her stomach. The bump had arrived and with it the bubbles, her little girl kicking like a future soccer star. _

_She grabbed a few books from her bookcase and carelessly dropped them on top of the clothes she had spent so much time folding. She knelt down and taped the box shut. One down, she thought to herself. She picked it up and started carrying it down the hall. _

_Ryan and Seth were in the den playing Halo. Or something. She couldn't tell those games apart. There was shooting and shouting. "Hi." She greeted walking past them and toward the stairs. _

_ "Hey." They both replied, Seth's eyes remained glued to the television screen, but Ryan turned to face her – his smile quickly becoming a frown. His thumb instinctively pushed the pause button and he was quick to his feet. _

_ "Dude. What are you doing?" Seth whined in annoyance, not wanting to postpone his win. _

_ Ryan ignored him and stopped Taylor dead in her tracks. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be carrying that." _

_ "What are you talking about? It's just some clothes and a couple of books. It's not heavy. It's fine." He stared at her. "Ryan it's fine." _

_ He ignored her and grabbed the box from her hands. She rolled her eyes and squealed, "Ryan!" as she followed him down the stairs. _

_ "You call this light? It's heavy." _

_ "No. It's not." _

_ "For you? Yes. It is." Ryan shook his head. "You heard the doctor. No heavy lifting." _

_ "I didn't think this qualified." _

_ "Of course it qualifies." Ryan sighed. "Besides we're not taking any chances."_

_ "We're not taking any chances? You mean, you're being overprotective." She retorted._

_ "Better overprotective than under protective." He stacked the box with the others against the wall in the dining room. "If you have anything else, tell me. I'll move it for you." _

_ "How chivalrous of you." She seethed. _

_ "Mock me all you want. You're not carrying any of that stuff on my watch." He put a hand on her belly and kissed her on the lips. As much as she wanted to, she didn't pull away. "She's kicking." Ryan smiled. _

_ "She does that." Taylor nodded. _

_ "I know you think I'm being overprotective." Ryan said. "But I'm good at carrying things. I'm happy to carry things. Let me play to my strengths." Seth yelled for him from atop the stairs. _

_ Taylor eyes narrowed. "Fine. Just go back to your stupid game before Seth has a heart attack."_

* * *

We are the reckless,

We are the wild youth

Chasing vision of our futures

One day we'll reveal that truth

That one will die before he gets there

* * *

**April 21, 2009**

**Berkeley, California **

I almost want to start this session off by telling you that Taylor called me yesterday. I want to tell you that we were on the phone with each other for more than a minute this time. That we are starting to figure everything out, to really communicate. Basically, I almost want to start this session off with a lie. On the ride here, I worked out this whole fantastical story. I'm sure you'd see right through it, but I have done such a good job with honesty here and I don't know if I can keep it up.

Today I feel like I've taken a dagger to the chest. I got a phone call yesterday, a message actually. And for a second I thought it was her. I thought all that wishful thinking had amounted to something, but it didn't. The message was from Theresa, a girl from my old neighborhood.

She was my first crush. My first everything really. When I left Chino, I left her behind but not too long after we had sex and she got pregnant. Her son isn't mine, but we thought that he was and so for two months I went back to Chino. I went back to working construction, back to a life of minimum wage and crushed dreams. I mean, I tried my best to pretend it was all okay, but she saw right through me. I went off to get Seth to come home from Portland and she decided it was best to tell me she miscarried. Isn't that some soap opera bullshit?

Anyway, it wasn't until my senior year that I found out the truth. She told me that they did all the tests and the baby, Ben, was her ex-fiancé's. I took her to my prom and for a minute, it was like everything between us was normal. It was almost like we might become something and then she realized that the way I had presented myself had all been a façade and that I had been too busy saving everyone else to be a good boyfriend, to be an acceptable father figure.

I get it now. I didn't get it then. Then I thought she was being overdramatic, but she hit the nail on the head. Back then I thought I had to be a knight-in-shining-armor in order to stake my claim in that high society. I realize the error of my ways now. I wouldn't have wanted eighteen year old me around my daughter anymore than she wanted me around her son.

The point to all of this is that Theresa Diaz called me. A girl that I haven't seen in three years is calling me out of the blue, but Taylor is giving me this silent treatment. Each day I remember her voice a little less, maybe that sound ridiculous, but it's true. I used to be able to feel her weight pressing into me if I closed my eyes and focused on the memory, now I can't do that. Her side of the bed is cold. Her smell is beginning to fade away. It's all becoming the most distant of memories, it's all becoming a dream and I can't handle that.

Theresa never even became a dream. She was always somewhere far in the back of my mind, but I knew I could always find her if I wanted to. I just never wanted her enough. Taylor though? I want Taylor. I want Taylor with every fiber of my being, but she's unpredictable. She went away to college and she came back married to Henri. When she's losing herself, she implants herself in someone else. I thought that from now on that was going to be me. I thought that it was going to be the two of us against the world, but she's six thousand miles away and I don't know when she's coming back.

I have this nightmare sometimes that she comes back married to another guy, who like Henri took advantage of her emotional state. He's intelligent, but odd and not in love with her the way I am. I have this dream and I know, that if that happens again, I can't just pretend to be her lover and get her back. If I lose her now, I know that I will lose her forever. But maybe that's what she wants. If Theresa can call me after all this time, then it shouldn't be that hard for her to call me.

I guess, I am really just saying this because I don't want to wake up in three years and realize that I lost her. I don't want to wake up and realize that I don't know her anymore. I should just suck it up right? I should just suck it up and call her. I should let that dial tone and voicemail greeting haunt me until that day she picks up.

I mean, I know that's what I should do, but I wouldn't know what to say when she answered. Taylor was the talker. I was the listener. That's how it worked. That was our normal and how can I do the opposite of that if normal is what I want back?

* * *

And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone

We're seeing fire to our insides for fun

Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home

It was a flood that wrecked this

* * *

**April 23, 2009**

**Paris, France**

You want to know about my job? I mean you're right, we haven't ever talked about that. We talk about the past, Aurelia, and Ryan. We don't talk about the present. We don't talk about me. Then again, I like not talking about me directly. I like the round about approach. That's been working? Hasn't it?

Fine. I am a translator. French to English. English to French. I had this part-time job with a small publishing house in San Francisco. Ryan found out about it actually. He hates to admit it, but he's a good listener. Great even, if you ask me. He worked as a barista at this coffee house just off campus and he overheard these people talking about it and sent in a copy of my resume and some poems I'd translated. When he gave me the interview information it was this huge surprise. It was almost a present. Before all this, I'd been working at a clothing store and that'd become a nightmare fast.

I think that maybe some girls would have been upset about the way he went about it, acting as if he were a knight of some kind. Not even presenting the idea to you, just thinking you'd like and go along with it. But, I thought it was romantic. I think a lot of things are romantic.

Anyway, I got this job translating short stories into English from French for this small publishing house and it was the best. It was something I could do from home, something I could do while being with Aurelia. I earned more money than I had made in retail and we didn't have to pay for a sitter as often. It really was the best possible option for us and then Aurelia died and unlike Ryan, I couldn't go back to school.

I couldn't sit in a classroom day in and day out and pretend that I gave a damn about anything that was being said. Ryan lost himself in school and I lost myself in my job. I lost myself in words. In poetry and stories that I wish I had the elegance to write. Then one day, the people at my work told me they'd passed my portfolio on to an affiliate and next thing I know I'm getting offered a job in Paris. I'm getting offered views of the Seine and never-ending streets.

I tried to tell Ryan about it and he kind of grunted along. You can scratch what I said earlier. He isn't a good listener. He used to be a good listener. He used to be insightful. By the time I left, any insight he had was gone. I tried for days to get him to talk with me about it but he wasn't there. He wasn't there and I was tired of pretending I was and I left.

For now, I have something to look forward to. I like letting my imagination run wild and knowing that I don't have to face her. If I didn't have this, I think I'd spend more time thinking about Aurelia. I'd imagine her everywhere. In everything I did, she'd be there. There's this park outside of my apartment and this woman always brings her daughter out. Sometimes when I sit there and that little girl runs around on the grass, I break down because I can see Aurelia's face in hers.

Without this, that's all I'd have, those few minutes seeing the movement in that little girl; the spark in her eyes and the matching spark in her mother's. I cry in those moments, but I feel something. Something I only ever feel when I lose myself in that park or when I'm working out how to fully articulate characters in their new language.

When I am working Aurelia and Ryan become tall tales, they become legends. They become the best possible stories and then the most tragic, but in those working hours they're no more real than Icarus and Daedalus. They're nothing but faint reminders of the failures of the hubris Ryan and I had in our life.

* * *

Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette

A lifeless face that you'll soon forget,

And my eyes are damp from the words you left

Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

* * *

_He isn't sure who he expected to see when he opened the door, but it certainly wasn't Veronica Townsend. At least, he'd been hoping it wasn't her. He'd been dreading the moment he'd have to see her again. He knew it was inevitable, what with his girlfriend being her daughter and pregnant with her granddaughter, but he had always expected that their next encounter would be planned, at the very least a planned surprise. He'd imagined Taylor meeting him at work and rambling about something or another before finally choking out that they were going to have dinner with her mom that evening._

_ He realized he'd been staring at her silently for far to long. "Veronica." He managed, the surprise apparent in his voice. _

_ "Ms. Townsend." She corrected. She looked at him with the same disdain she had in high school. He imagined there would be more disdain to come. _

_ "Ms. Townsend." He repeated. He went back to staring at her silently. _

_ "Can I come in?" She spoke to him like he was a child. _

_ "Sure." He stood in the way of the door. Veronica motioned for him to move. "Right." _

_ As he let her in, he heard footsteps in the foyer. "Is everything okay, Ryan? You've been gone a long time." Taylor asked. He pictured her when she asked this. Her hair in its messy bun. The navy blue sundress she'd been wearing – the way her stomach protruded beneath it. "You're going to miss the part where … mom?" He pictured her face go white. _

_ He shut the door and turned around. She looked like she had seen a ghost. "You're supposed to be in New York." She whispered, folding her arms and awkwardly trying to cover up her baby bump. "You know, the New York that's two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-seven miles away. Give or take." She was dumbfounded and her voice was shaky. _

_ Ryan went and wrapped an arm around her for support. She fell into him. Veronica didn't look too happy about that, not that she had looked happy to begin with. "What's going on Taylor?" She asked. "Taylor!"_

_ "I um." Taylor heard the words she wanted to say in her head, but they didn't come out of her mouth. "I might…" She wanted to hit Ryan for being so quiet. He could talk when it was convenient for him, but when she needed him? _

_She elbowed him in the abdomen. He pulled her closer. _

_ "You look like you're six months pregnant." _

_ Taylor stayed quiet. Everyone had been telling her how small she was for someone as far along as she. And then there was her mother, adding on time that hadn't past. Calling her fat like she always had. "Five." Ryan offered. "She's five months pregnant." _

_ Veronica looked outraged. "When did this happen?"_

_ "New Year's Eve." Ryan said matter-of-factly. He recoiled as he was elbowed again. _

_ "We found out after the earthquake." Taylor managed. _

_ "When you shot me in the foot." Veronica said with disgust. _

_ "I was going to tell you." Taylor tried not to cry. "I just couldn't over the phone."_

_ "You mean you chickened out," Veronica corrected. _

_ "Yeah." She nodded. "I guess I did." _

_ "And I guess that everyone else in town knows, except me." The hurt was apparent in her eyes. "Your mother." _

_ Taylor shrugged. "I don't know who knows and who doesn't. I was never really in the gossip loop." She paused. "I didn't know when you were coming back. You kept saying soon."_

_ "So you were just going to go to Berkley without telling me?" _

_ "No. I just. I just didn't want to disappoint you." _

_ "It's a little late for that." The first tear fell down Taylor's cheek. "I just stopped by to tell you I was back in town." _

_ "I'm glad you did."_

_ "I was going to ask you to lunch, but given the choices you've made lately, now I guess I'll have to settle for telling you." _

_Ryan could see Veronica's tough demeanor begin to crack. It was giving way to the vulnerable; a woman realizing every mistake she'd ever made and the ways she couldn't make up for them. The way she'd never be close to her daughter, the only family she really had. Taylor could see it too, the heartbreak and hurt shining through. She just couldn't get past her own shame. "We'll meet tomorrow, four o'clock at the yacht club. Be punctual. I don't have time for anymore of your excuses."_

_ Taylor nodded. Veronica's eyes scanned her body one last time before she headed for the door. As it shut Taylor broke down in Ryan's arms. He held her close, prepared to never let go._

* * *

_Song: Youth by Daughter_


	7. Everything

_Chapter Seven: Everything_

* * *

Older brother, restless soul, lie down

Lie for a while with your ear against the earth

And you'll hear your sister sleep talking, say

"Your hair is long but not long enough to reach home to me

But your beard someday might be"

* * *

_Ryan waited for her at the beach. He wanted to be close enough to the yacht club that he could get there quickly if she needed him, yet far from Veronica's wrath. She'd never liked him and there was something in her eyes, something that said to him that she could snap at any moment. He wanted to be alive to see his daughter's birth. _

_ His toes in the sand, body damped by sweat from his run, Taylor watched him from afar and managed a small smile. Her mom may have been disappointed in her choice of partner, but if anyone had to have gotten her pregnant she was glad it was Ryan; thanked God it wasn't Henri. She imagined Ryan had spent more time on the beach in his few years in Newport than she had in her whole life. The beach was where people with friends hung out in high school, not outcasts like her. Sure, she'd spent her share of time at the pier, the yacht club, many places beach adjacent, but hanging out alone with her toes in the sand had been something she had avoided like the plague. She looked down at her belly; she supposed she'd never be alone again. _

_ Ryan noticed her walking tentatively towards him. He wanted to smile at her. She looked so beautiful. Since she had started to show she'd worn nothing but dresses, all flowy, all complimenting her curves in the best possible way. Her breasts a more defining feature than ever, his fantasies became more explicit than he ever thought possible. The eighties montage that had run in his head eight odds months ago now seemed like child's play. Walking toward him, he could picture the most casual of their touches turning erotic. Her hands slowly sliding down to clench his butt during a hug, his sliding inward and upward to cup her breasts. He could see their lips touch; see them engaging in PDA that would warrant stares from the most liberal of beachgoers. He saw all this and their swift disappearance, him leading her off to the old lifeguard stand, the two of them coming together in an arena in which Taylor was queen and in a way they'd recently perfected._

_ He knew this would have to remain fantasy, knew he shouldn't crack a smile, shouldn't seem overeager about anything. This moment wasn't about the perfect weather, Taylor's curves, the waves crashing so idyllically in the background. It was about Taylor's awful mother, who knew how to do little more than belittle and berate. He wasn't expecting her to be excited or aroused, he was expecting her to breakdown in his arms, to let her hormones overtake her. Off the look in her eyes, he began to prepare his It's-Going-To-Be-Okay speech. _

_ "Hey." He greeted as she made it to him. _

_ "Hi." She replied, her voice filled with less sadness than he expected and far more surprise. They stood in silence for a minute. _

_ "So…" Ryan began, pushing some hair out of her eyes. "How was lunch?"_

_ "It was…" At a loss for words, Taylor just nodded rapidly. After a few moments contemplation she managed, "She bought me a car."_

_ "Pardon?" _

_ "My mom bought me a car. Just came in with keys and a title. I don't know what happened. I spent all of lunch waiting for her to tell me she had an inoperable brain tumor. Hell, at the end, I half expected her to tell me she wasn't my mom at all but a Suliban giving me a little happiness before the Cabal destroyed the Earth. Sure, she spent half the meal going on and on about how I threw away all my potential and that after the way I was with that Korean prom date of mine she wasn't really surprised to find out I was pregnant, just thought I'd have the sense to let someone with money knock me up. And, I was expecting that, but also so much more. She did her little rant and that was it, said that despite it all, we were going to make the most of the situation. Her grandchild wasn't going to be a "felon" like it's father. So, she bought me a car and gave me access to some of my trust fund." Taylor sighed. "Basically, the world ended and any minute now a big voice is going to welcome us to the afterlife."_

_ "She bought you a car?" _

_ Taylor nodded. "Uh-huh. A Prius – she said she was going to buy me a beamer for my twenty-first birthday, but that this car was better suited for someone who wasn't going to sustain their wealth." _

_ "Wow." _

_ "Yup," Taylor smirked. "All that alarm and I have what might have been the nicest lunch I've ever had with my mother." _

_ "That's because you're mother is crazy." _

_ "Oh yeah. Totally insane, but still." Taylor chuckled. "I can't even explain it. I thought she was going to disown me. I kind of wanted her to disown me, but now. Now…" She pulled Ryan into a kiss. _

_ "Now?" Ryan gulped. _

_ "Now anything's possible. Pigs could fly." Ryan watched as her smile expanded, until she was beaming. She pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. "Want to go drive somewhere secluded and have sex in my new car? Might be the last time we can do something like that for a long time." _

_ "Well if that's the case," He put an arm around her and led her toward the parking lot. As they looked for her new car, he turned to her and finally allowed himself to smile. He was going to get his afternoon delight after all, and more than that he was going get it from a woman who, in their short time together, had made him happier than he previously realized possible. She was the right crazy, the right spontaneous, the right everything. A year ago the thought of him and Taylor Townsend would have made him laugh out loud, but right now things were finally falling into place, things were finally all right._

* * *

And she'll wake up in a cold sweat on the floor

Next to a family portrait drawn when you were four

And beside a jar of two-cent coins that are no good no more

She'll lay it aside

* * *

**April 28, 2009**

**Paris, France **

I used to have this dream. When I was younger, thirteen, fourteen, I had this dream that the good things in my life would come out of the tragedy. I'd watch these soap operas with these crazy storylines and it always seemed that when everything was as bad as it could possibly be, that's when the characters would find love. Obviously, it was soap opera love and people's lovers changed on a monthly basis, but something resonated with me. Maybe because I thought I had this tragic life, you know, of course I was going to get a Prince Charming. So I'd imagine avalanches and floods, earthquakes and shark attacks – sometimes, I'd even go the simple route; I'd imagine my own life.

My parents divorced when I was in the second grade and as little a relationship I have with my father now, I still remember him positively. I remember the time he took me to Sea World just the two of us. I remember him going to play golf at the club and taking me along as his "caddy". I never think about much more than those moments. Frankly, there isn't that much to remember. Not anything happy anyway. It's either this or me listening through the wall at him and my mother screaming. The point is I build in my head this world that was so ideal until I was seven. My parents' divorce becomes a tragedy, my dad getting remarried becomes a tragedy, the lack of parental involvement in my childhood years becomes a tragedy, so on and so forth. And yeah, a lot of it was awful. A lot of my adolescent years were horrible, but they weren't tragic. This now, this is the great tragedy of my life.

Three years ago, I projected the image of a knight in shining armor on Ryan. He was going to save me from my marriage. He was going to save me from the slimy Henri. It was going to be the two of us against the world and it was, for a while. The problem is, I didn't need a knight then. I could have figured my way out of the situation without him. I am resourceful enough, but I wanted to be rescued. I was tired of being lonely.

The movies always go a particular way though, don't they? I mean Cinderella, Snow White, all those little Disney princesses, they get their one rescue. They ride off into the sunset and that's it. No looking back. Ryan and I rode off into that sunset, but we did the unthinkable. We looked back. We thought that being together we were escaping all those problems in our lives – Marissa, Veronica, Volchok, Henri, Trey, and my dad Mark were all just going to stay in the past. We were going toward this blissful future, but we never thought tragedy would catch up to us. I thought I needed an escape then, but I didn't. I need it know. I need Ryan to look me in the eye; I need us to ride off towards something new. You know? It certainly won't be better, but it will be different. I need us to do the horribly clichéd and make lemons into lemonade, but I am starting to think we missed our chance.

We're great in the good times; we're terrible in the bad. Maybe that's our truth. Maybe I just have to accept that and move on. I don't want to, but I am running out of ideas. One of us should be the bigger person and yet, neither of us is. I am not saying I can't be held accountable for that, but maybe I'm just idealizing the good times – like that trip to Sea World. Maybe it's better this way, maybe neither of us is ready to deal with the other because we know in are hearts we shouldn't.

No. I don't really think that, but I am starting to think that I should. I am starting to think that there is just something I'm not realizing.

I do know that one of my co-workers asked me out on a date and as much as I adore Ryan and as much as I've imagined us in wedded bliss, I think I have to say yes. I think that if I don't say yes, I'm going to stay in the same trap. I am going to keep thinking of us as the Ryan and Taylor of old, not the Ryan and Taylor that we could be.

It'll be a test, an expedition into the new world and its many possibilities. How it could be.

* * *

And you'll find somebody you can blame

And you'll follow the creek that runs out into the sea

And you'll find the peace of the Lord.

* * *

He took a seat across from her at a little café on Fourth Street. Months ago, it had been his and Taylor's favorite place for take out. Every Sunday morning, he'd come pick up brunch on the way back from his run. They'd lay a blanket on the floor in the living room and watch Aurelia toddle around as they ate. When these memories played in his head, they seemed fake – like some sixties television show he'd seen when he was younger. They played out too perfect to be real, but they were. Sometimes he wished they weren't.

"Long time." He greeted.

"Yeah." She smirked. "Certainly long before the facial hair."

He allowed himself to smile. "How've you been?"

"Good. Really good. Just busy, too busy. God. I cannot believe it's almost been three years. I know we didn't end things on the best of terms and I'm really sorry about what I said…"

"Don't be." Ryan interrupted. "You were right."

"Regardless, it's not like I should have pretended you didn't exist. I mean, I heard about Marissa, you know, and I didn't call. I should have called. I should have kept some line of communication. I mean Christ; it's been three years. Daniel's five. Can you believe it?"

"No." Ryan managed. He knew he shouldn't have come here. As much as he'd wanted to see Theresa, she had Daniel. She had a life like the one he pined for. He couldn't exactly ban her from talking about her son; her surely happy, well-adjusted son and he didn't know how to bring up his dead daughter in conversation. What was he supposed to say? '_Hey speaking of kids, my daughter died right about three months ago'_. They were strangers now and as much as he wished they weren't he couldn't ignore it. He hadn't thought this through. He just wanted interaction with someone different. Someone who didn't start the conversation with 'I'm sorry.'

"I'm really sorry about Marissa too, I cannot believe that happened. Not for the life of me."

"It's okay." Ryan said, immediately regretting his choice of words. "I mean it's not okay. What happened, it's not okay, but I'm used to it now. She's almost been dead now as long as I knew her. Sometimes it feels like a dream, you know? Another life."

"I can imagine. I mean, just based on you and I. For a long time, we were each other's everything and now."

"Yeah, now." He nodded.

"So, how've you been?"

His heart sank. He should have been expecting that, but he wasn't. When he played this meal out in his head they managed to only talk about her. He sighed. "You know, I'd rather hear about you for now." He needed coffee; he needed it five minutes ago. "Are you still with that guy from work?"

Theresa had to think about his question for a minute. Who exactly was he talking about? Three years was longer than she had realized before. Watching Daniel grow up everything seemed to happen so fast, but she realized now that that was just a mirage. "Oh! Him. No. We broke up, not longer after I last saw you. Wasn't quite as mature as I had thought he was. It's just Daniel and I right now, which is great. I have some photos actually, if you want to see." She didn't wait for a reply; her hand went right for her phone.

"This is us at Disneyland, he rode everything but the Dumbo ride. I tried and tried, but for some reason, he was scared of that damn elephant. Um. This was at Christmas. Mom came to us, we've been living in Pasadena for a while now, it's crazy. We never thought we were going to leave Chino, but look at us." Ryan felt the tears well in his eyes. He was grateful that she didn't actually look up with those last few words. "This is him with the Easter bunny." She laughed. "He loves the Easter bunny, but is terrified of Santa. Won't go near him."

Theresa glanced at the next photo on her phone and laughed at its contents. "This was…" she began, looking up at Ryan and noticing the change in his demeanor. "Ryan, are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just." He was at a loss for the right words. "It's nothing."

Theresa stared at him with concern until their waitress made her way over. "Can I get you all something to drink for starters?"

"I'll have an orange juice."

"And you?" With this, the waitress turned to Ryan. It was Chloe, Ryan knew her by name. They'd seen each other practically every Sunday for over a year. The times he, Taylor, and Aurelia had come in together, she'd treated them like family and he had always tipped her a little over twenty percent. "Oh my, Ryan." He could tell she wanted to hug him. "It's been a while. You stopped coming and I wasn't expecting you to come back after everything that happened. Too many memories, I figured." Her smile turned into a frown. He'd never seen her frown before, never seen her anything other than chipper. "I don't even know what to say. I am so sorry for you and Taylor. I know you probably hear this all the time, but if there is anything I can do, just let me know. I cannot imagine what you're going through, and again, you probably hear this all the time and you're probably sick of hearing it, but I am just so sorry."

Ryan nodded. "It's, you know, it's…" He shrugged. He wasn't doing as good a job controlling the tears as he had hoped. "Thanks Chloe."

"Yeah. Coffee black?" She asked.

"Coffee black." He repeated.

Theresa's concerned look was back. "Ryan, are you okay? What was that about? What happened?"

"I shouldn't have come. I mean, I wanted to come, but I shouldn't have. I thought you knew. I mean, I half thought that was why you wanted to meet. To give your condolences and what have you. I should of known better. How would you have known?"

"Known what?" Theresa put her hand on his in support.

"You remember Taylor Townsend?"

She thought this over for a minute. "That weird girl from the prom?"

"Yeah." He chuckled slightly, "That weird girl from the prom." He sighed. "Well, a little while after Marissa died we stared dating. It's a really long story, but we just clicked and being with her was always this great adventure. And after we'd been dating a few months she found out she was pregnant and we just sort of trudged on and everything worked out wonderfully. We had this beautiful baby girl, Aurelia." Ryan pulled a photo from his wallet. "And you know, everything was just all we could have hoped and then in January, we were coming home from visiting my mother in Reno and some guy ran a red light and rammed right into our car." He grabbed the photo back from Theresa. "She died."

"Ryan," Theresa said, her voice filled with more sympathy than he could handle.

"And while I want to catch up, it's all just really fresh. It's all too much. And even more than just Aurelia, Taylor was the one, I think. If soul mates and all that existed, I think Taylor was mine and after Aurelia died, everything just kind of fell apart. She took a job in France and I didn't stop her. So, sitting here listening to you talk about Daniel should be fine, but it's really not. I just can't handle it right now. I am glad you're happy. I just wish I was too."

"Ryan, if I had known, I wouldn't have talked about him." Theresa smiled. "Let's just start again. I guess, we don't really know each other anymore, but you seem lonely, so we're going to make the most of this. Okay? We're going to catch up, but I am not going to tell you about Daniel or Pasadena or my job. For now, let's just talk about Aurelia. Not the fact that she's dead. Not the fact that Taylor's gone, just about what she was like. I think the hardest thing when people die is the fear that one day it'll be like they never existed, so let's keep her memory alive." Theresa squeezed his hand. "Tell me everything."

He was hesitant at first, but after a moment, he began. "She was born on August 6th 2007 at five fifteen in the morning. For a while, I thought I was going to miss her birth and that I'd never be able to forgive myself, but I was there. Five pounds. Four ounces. I was there."

He looked at Theresa and sighed in relief, he felt more at home than he had in a while.

* * *

Older father, weary soul, you'll drive

Back to the home you made on the mountainside

With that ugly, terrible thing

Those papers for divorce

And a lonely ring

* * *

_Ryan wasn't used to Berkeley yet. There was something different about the air. It was crisper, cleaner. Where June in Newport had been hot, and Chino had been hotter, the weather in Berkeley was strangely cool, inviting and foreign at the same time. _

_ He looked over at Taylor, snuggled in a blanket far thicker than he'd ever expected to see in the summer. The air streaming through the window, Ryan realized they'd have to invest in jackets for every season. Another expense to add to his ever-expanding list. _

_ "What about that place on Channing?" Taylor asked. _

_ "Hmm?" _

_ "That apartment on Channing. It had the cute little breakfast nook." _

_ "It was a little dark. Wasn't it?" _

_ "We could lighten it up." _

_ "A little expensive." _

_ "Is that it?" Taylor sighed. "We have money, so that shouldn't be the defining characteristic of any of these places. That money in my trust fund will go a long way." _

_ "Yeah, but we don't want to go through that. That money should be for when we need it. We shouldn't just dish it out." _

_ "Ryan, what we have access to is only a quarter of what there is." _

_ "Look Taylor, I get it. We have money, a little bit of a leg to stand on, which is great. But I was raised very traditionally, you don't live on more than you can afford. I want us to be able to take care of ourselves." _

_ Taylor looked him squarely in the eye. "Translation: You're the man and you want to take care of everything yourself." _

_ "No!" Taylor stared at him. "Maybe." _

_ "Well, newsflash Ryan Atwood. We're having a kid and kids are expensive, so I would much rather the two of us work hard and make money, all the while knowing that we can give our daughter the best possible life, than fret over a few hundred dollars in the monthly rent. Everything is expensive here. Without that money we'd be struggling too much, this is about making this the best possible life we can. So we'll dip our fingers into the trust fund sparingly, but we'll dip them in. I mean, what do you expect us to do, live here?" _

_ "No, but I am starting to think Kirsten wants us to stay." _

_ "Seth and Summer went to Europe. Kirsten is nostalgic, one minute she's going to have this new baby, next thing she's not and we are. The worst thing we can do is stay here. It's just a reminder of what she's lost. She doesn't need that. She doesn't need to be in such close quarters to it all. It's just not fair; besides, I wouldn't be comfortable with it. We're adults. We have to be adults." Taylor nestled in toward him. "I'm sorry that you won't get that dorm living experience, but this is our life now. You'll just have to live vicariously though Seth." _

_ "What an unlikely turn of events." He smirked. _

"_We can keep looking. Obviously the sooner the better." She said pointing to her belly, "But we can keep looking. There's always Oakland." _

"_What about that place on Dwight, the little Victorian. A lot of room, comparatively, not a terrifying price. A little further from campus, but not unmanageable." _

_ "Windows." Taylor joked. _

_ "Windows." Ryan repeated. _

_ "Yeah. That was a nice place. Nice enough neighborhood. More house than apartment." She smiled at him. "That could be our home." _

_ Ryan let his hand rest on Taylor's abdomen and felt the life move inside her. She was right. They were adults and they had to act like it. Their child was going to have so much more than either of them had had. She was going to know a love that Ryan had only recently learned existed, a love he couldn't yet describe. She deserved more than a room in the Cohen's house, she deserved a home and if they needed to dig into Taylor's money for that to happen, so be it. He could suck up his pride. Traditional wasn't always better, he of all people knew that. "We'll call them in the morning" _

_ "And then we'll buy a couch and a bed and we're all set." She chuckled patting him on the chest. _

_ "Don't forget a crib."_

_ Taylor shook her head. "Couldn't if I wanted to."_

* * *

Grandfather, gentle soul, you'll fly

Over your life once more before you die

Since our grandma passed away

You've waited for forever and a day

Just to die

And someday soon

You will die

* * *

**May 1, 2009**

**Berkeley, California **

We kissed. Twelve hours of talking about Aurelia, life with children, life with lovers, Pasadena, Berkeley, third grade, Chino and then we kissed. I walked into that café not sure how on Earth I was going to deal with Theresa given the varied realities of our lives and somewhere between the omelet and the check, I felt at home. I felt like I could talk to her about anything. So we made a day of it, I showed her Berkeley, Oakland, and the Golden Gate Bridge and before you know it, the sun is setting and her lips are firmly implanting themselves on mine.

It's weird. Theresa was my first kiss and there we were almost ten years later and after years apart falling right back in line. Her mom always thought it was going to be the two of us. She used to joke about us being made for each other and sometimes when I was in Newport I'd wonder if that wasn't the case. I'd wonder why I was so infatuated with Marissa, when there was this great girl back in Chino just waiting for me. That was all just a fantasy though. She didn't wait for me. She got engaged to Eddie. She got pregnant and then we tried that whole shotgun relationship, but I always thought it didn't work because we were so young and both ruining each other's lives, shots at happiness. So, when I was lonely Theresa slowly became this woman of myth, somewhere out there, just out of my reach, maybe Miss Right.

How was the kiss? Well, her lips were as soft and as supple as ever. They were just as I remembered them and standing next to her, it seemed like maybe we could work, but I didn't feel it. I was still in the shadow of everything that happened. Beyond the façade of the day, I was as dead inside as ever.

As much as I wanted it to nothing changed between those hours of eight and eight. So I took her back to her hotel and then Monday I drove her to the airport. She kissed me goodbye on the cheek. We promised to keep in touch this time. We promised it wouldn't be another three years, but that was it. As quickly as Theresa Diaz came back she was gone and it was just me and my thoughts again.

It's funny though, looking back on that day with Theresa I realized something. Taylor is the one. She's the one I want. The one I need and that whole day all I did was project her onto Theresa. We kissed because we did what I was supposed to do. I wasn't supposed to cut Taylor off. I was supposed to be present. I was supposed to talk. We were supposed to deal with death together. We were supposed to become stronger given everything but I wasn't willing to work for stronger, I let her go.

I realize that now. She didn't leave me I pushed her away. I let her go. She's not the deserter it's me. But what am I supposed to do about it? Am I supposed to fly to France? Break out into song? Write her another damn poem?

I thought after the Henri incident, she was mine. I wasn't going to let her go again. I wasn't going to get scared again. Then Aurelia died and I wasn't scared, I was terrified. How can you live your life knowing that anything can happen? Our bubble was nice, now its gone, now she's gone and Taylor? She was the one right thing. Maybe its time to face facts, maybe she doesn't even want me back. Maybe somewhere between the funeral and her flight to France I showed my true colors and maybe she's as scared to come back, as I am that she'll never want me back.

* * *

It was the only woman you ever loved

That got burnt by the sun too often when she was young

And the cancer spread and it ran into her body and her blood

And there's nothing you can do about it now

* * *

She was wrong. Thirty minutes into her date with Benjamin she realized he was too pretentious. An hour in his over pronunciation of English words went from charming to grating. At an hour and thirty minutes they started to argue about Flaubert. By hour two she realized he was Henri the Second. She couldn't get away fast enough.

She wasn't that insecure young girl anymore. She didn't need to be told how smart she was. She knew she was smart. She didn't need to be told how pretty she was. For, as much as she fought with herself about it, she knew that too. She needed real conversation. She needed her perfect opposite. She needed Ryan.

Her exploration into the new world had revealed that maybe she didn't need a knight anymore. Maybe she just needed the right guy; maybe their failures could become perfections. Maybe they could complete each other. Maybe she just needed to stop over thinking things. One of these days, she was going to have to let the past become the past. The beautiful nursery in their house would have to be the past. Aurelia would have to be the past. Her and Ryan would have to start anew and she knew it now. She knew that was what she wanted. She just wasn't sure she could accept it yet.

The pictures on the fireplace, the blankets they used for Sunday morning brunch, the couch from where she heard Aurelia say her first word, from where she watched her take her first steps. It was all surely still there and she knew that if those walls could talk they'd give her an earful. Letting the past become the past sounded good in theory, but in reality it was terrifying. They couldn't just sell everything. Their past couldn't just be something they ignored; it had to become something they could deal with, something they could move passed together. They had to accept that nothing would ever be that good, that close to perfect again, but that things could still be good. Life could still go on.

She fell into her apartment door after she let herself in. She was glad the evening was over. She looked at her phone, one missed call. She dialed for voicemail and listened to Ryan's voice as it said:

"Saturday, February 3rd 2007, that's the day that I realized I loved you. You went to that psychiatrist to stop being obsessed with me and then just ended up stalking me in that groundhog costume. Remember? I remember that Friday I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, more than that week after you pretended to be my sleep therapist. You were something out of legend but as much as I wanted you, I still didn't understand you. As different as you had become to me in those months, there was still something off about you. Something I wasn't sure I'd ever get, but I just decided to ignore it and that night we joked about pretending to stalk each other and by midnight we were in the spider web position from the Kamasutra.

"I don't know what happened, but somewhere between midnight and six am everything clicked. I realized that that eccentricity wasn't a wall. That eccentricity was you. You were the oddest girl I had ever known, but also the most exciting, the most fascinating, the most fun. I suddenly felt sorry for everyone in high school who refused to get to know you, for all those people who thought you were another Type A goody-two-shoes. You weren't Tracy Flick; you were everything Tracy Flick wished she could be. In that moment, you were everything. You still are everything and maybe we need this. Maybe we need this time apart, but the second you're ready to come home, I am here. As hard as it will be, we can start again."

She broke into tears as she slid to the floor. This message was what she had needed three months ago. This was the knight in his armor. This was the passage to the new world. She played it over and over again, only to realize she wasn't ready for the future just yet.

It wasn't him after all. He was the bigger person. She was the coward. He was open and willing to start anew and she was still stuck in the past.

* * *

_Song: Blood by The Middle East_

Review? – S'il vous plaît


	8. Truth and Lies

_Chapter Eight: Truth and Lies_

* * *

All of these ghost towns

I keep traveling through

All of these traffic signs

And lonesome bars

Blindsiding me to you and

I swear I can be better

I could be more to you

* * *

She called when he was in class, when she was sure his phone would take her directly to voicemail. She wasn't willing to risk it. She wanted to respond to the beep, not his voice as it prodded her, begged her to speak. Of the many things she loved about him, his voice was in the top three. If he ever interrogated her, he could quickly get her to reveal all her secrets, the deepest and darkest. Even listening to those few words asking her to leave a message caused her heart to skip a beat.

"I am going to say it was that January. The thing with love is it's hard for me to pin down because I was infatuated with you for so long. Even in high school. Even when you still thought I was the weirdest person alive, there was something about you I wanted to know more about. There was something I was drawn to. Before I had that little, okay big, crush on Seth. It was you. I dreamed of you talking to me, just once. You seemed tough, but at the same time you seemed kind and I needed a little kindness in my life.

"So I am going to say January, but it could have been earlier. I just know that standing there as you, and then I, read that poem I felt it. I knew I loved you. That's why I didn't think I could be with you then. I felt something with you I'd never really felt before, certainly not with Henri. Even when Henri said it and I got caught in his spell, I wasn't sure I felt the same. I just loved feeling loved. When I read that though, I knew I loved you and that I loved that poem. Do you remember it? I do. I even thought about framing it for a while. 'A sonnet, I don't know how to write. A haiku, 5-7-5 seems too tight. Then there are the three little words I am unable say, but Taylor this is what I can tell you today. Though I can't say those words to you tonight, please stick with me 'cause I feel someday I might.' I just wish it hadn't taken me trying to get you, and instead getting myself, drunk to say it. But that doesn't really matter. Not now. It doesn't matter who said it first or when or where. It matters that we said it and we meant it and we still mean it.

"I thought it was you Ryan, but it's me. I never learned how to stand on my two feet, to live outside your love. And she died and I felt so alone and I thought that coming here I was moving on, but I am not. I am hiding. You're the bigger person and I am the smallest of the small, just a little ant. I wish I could tell you that I was ready to come home, but there are just too many memories. There is just too much. Beyond our problems, I was suffocating in Berkeley and I am scared that I am just going to come back and suffocate some more. But Ryan, this is what I can tell you today. Even though I can't come home tonight, please stick with me 'cause soon I might.

"I love you more than anything."

When Ryan heard this, a rush came over him. This was a start. They were moving in the right direction. He just wished he truly was the bigger person, but he had gone into hiding right after her. He hadn't been to their home in over three weeks, had never managed to go into the nursery after her death.

Taylor might have been hiding in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, but he was hiding in plain sight.

* * *

But there are things

That lie in my path

That I just have to do

* * *

_Taylor looked at the little toy Camaro he kept in his sock drawer. She'd first spotted it months ago when they were still in Newport. She had just done laundry and was putting his clothes away when. Bam! There it was. Tiny. Plastic. The epitome of boyhood innocence._

_She closed the dresser drawer and went to the kitchen to find him. The walls of the house were still sparse, as was the living room, empty except for a couch. She looked at him, still half asleep, holding his coffee as if it was his only lifeline. "You have to go." She told him assertively. _

_He mumbled in response, "Where?" _

"_You know where." She rolled her eyes. "Vegas." _

"_Taylor, we've had this conversation. Just…" She cut him off before he could finish his sentence._

"_Don't you dare tell me to just drop it." _

"_Taylor, it's six in the morning." _

"_I am aware." He watched as her hands slowly slid to her hips. "I promised not to talk about it last night. I didn't promise not to talk about it this morning. It's not my fault you chose to wake up early." _

"_I wasn't exactly expecting an ambush first thing." _

"_Get used to it." _

"_What's the point?" He asked, grabbing the newspaper and heading into the living room. _

"_The point is that he's your brother." He just stared at her. "You know, same mother, same father. Genetic bond. Emotional bond. All that fun stuff." _

"_Taylor, the last encounter I had with my brother, he was strangling me. Then he got shot. Then he was in a coma. Then he woke up. Then he tried to pin the shooting on me, even though he had me in a choke hold when the shot went off. If ever there was one, there is no kind of 'emotional bond' left between us." _

"_God. I thought my high school years were traumatic." She muttered, falling beside him on the couch. "Well, a year ago you would have said the same thing about your father, right? ... Well not the same thing, but the 'I don't want to see him' thing and the 'He was violent toward me' thing, but now." _

"_We're not exactly the best of friends." _

"_No, but you can be in the same room together. You can get along. You approve of his relationship with Julie. You're slowly giving him another chance. You're open to the possibilities." _

"_Yup. That's why I moved four hundred miles away." _

_Taylor scoffed. "Come on. Everyone knows that that was for school and…" she cut herself off. _

"_And?" _

"_Family." She said meekly. _

"_Ah ha. Looks like someone hit the nail on the head." He opened the newspaper and began to read, assuming that Taylor would admit defeat. He should have known better. _

"_Well then, think of it like this..." _

"_You're still going to do this?"_

"_Think of it like this, Sandy is your father now, but you can still be around Frank. And Seth is your brother now, so you should still be able to be around Trey. I mean, our kid will have two grandfathers, which is good seeing as my dad is practically non-existent. Why not two uncles?' _

_Ryan looked at her sternly. "Trey is not going to be anywhere near our kid. If Trey wants to fuck up anyone else's life, it will have to be one of his own damn kids. Understood?" _

_Taylor nodded. "Look, all Julie and Frank are trying to do is extend an olive branch. They're just going to go to Vegas and say, we know we've both wronged you in someway and we're here to make amends." _

"_Trey almost raped Julie's daughter." _

"_So its Frank more than Julie." She sighed. "All they're asking you to do is go with them. You've never let Trey apologize. You listened to your dad apologize. You listened to Julie. All they want, all Frank wants, is some semblance of a family. So do it for him, do it with hope for the future." She patted him on the knee. "Stand around, grunt, and be stoic, but go."_

"_Have you considered that I don't want Trey to be part of my future?" _

"_If that were the case you wouldn't keep that little toy Camaro in your sock drawer." She smiled. "I first saw it in March. You must have grabbed it right after the earthquake when you all did that mad grab of things you'd need at Julie's. You wouldn't have grabbed it if it weren't sentimental. You wouldn't have grabbed it if you hated him. Moreover, you had no reason to wake up at six in the morning today. I mean other than being scheduled on a flight leaving at nine fifteen."_

_Ryan sighed. "Fine. We'll go." _

"_We'll go?" _

"_I am not going without you." _

"_Oh yes you are." _

"_Give me one good reason."_

"_They bought one plane ticket, it was for you, based on your seat assignment the plane is full, it leaves in like three hours, and you know, I'm not going to pay a thousand dollars for a last minute plane ticket. There you go. There are five."_

"_Then we'll drive." _

"_That has got be like a ten hour drive." _

"_So?" _

"_I'm seven months pregnant." _

"_And?" _

"_And we'd have to stop like every thirty minutes." _

"_The longer it takes to get there, the better and if I have to suffer, so do you." _

"_Fine. Let's go to Vegas." She stared him directly in the eye._

"_Fine." _

_Neither of them was happy._

* * *

If you've got visions of the past

Let them follow you down

And they'll come back to you someday

* * *

**May 5, 2009**

**Paris, France **

She was born on a Monday. It was early. Five thirty in the morning. Kirsten and Sandy were in Portland. Summer and Seth were asleep in the waiting room. It was just Ryan and I. He looked terrified. He tried to mask it, you know? He tried to pretend like everything was okay, but I could tell. After all those months of telling ourselves that we'd be great and everything would be alright, it was time and what the hell did we know about having a kid? What the hell did we know about being parents?

So he pretended he wasn't terrified. I pretended I didn't notice. And then at five-thirty two she came into the world. He cut the cord. They cleaned her off, placed her in my arms and it all changed. He wasn't scared anymore. He was ecstatic. I can't even explain it. He was… he was beaming. I'd never seen him like that before, but he saw her and he felt something. Everything we'd been telling ourselves became truth and when I put her in his arms, he didn't want to let go.

Even when the Cohens came, even when Summer begged, he wouldn't give in. She was ours. I could hold her. He could hold her, but everyone else had to wait. That was our day. That was our moment. That was our daughter.

In the span of a few minutes, I went from trying to prepare myself for Ryan's inevitable departure, everyone had always left me and I could see the rumblings of something behind the fear in Ryan's eyes, to knowing that he'd never leave.

He cried. You know? He held her and he cried these tears of joy. I'd never seen him cry before. Never expected to see him cry. Atwood men bottle their emotions. Atwood men don't express themselves. They grunt and they're laconic and in their brevity they say a thousand words, but they aren't emotional. At least, that's what I was led to believe.

Hell, Ryan didn't tell me he loved me until I failed at getting him drunk. So I didn't expect to see him so immediately attached, so immediately in love with her, so much more in love with me. But he was. We were. It happened instantly.

Then she died and that complicated life we'd weaved just fell apart and I did that thing I never expected to do, to Ryan, to anyone. I left. You see, running is in my genes. My grandmother ran off to Italy right before my mom turned nine. My dad left. My mom spent her free time away from me. Isela. Svetlana. Everyone. That's my family's story, struggling to cope with the way your life is going? No problem. Leave. Your daughter loves the help more than you? No problem. Send them away.

I always thought I was going to buck the trend.

Though, I guess, I've always been a part of it. I left Newport for the Sorbonne. Left the Sorbonne for Henri. Left Henri for some semblance of a home. Found Ryan, was happy. Had Aurelia, was ecstatic. Lost Aurelia. Left again.

I'm no better than my mom. No better than my dad. No better than any Townsend that has ever lived. But somehow I deluded myself into thinking I was doing something noble. I was leaving to move on with my life. Ryan was wallowing, but me? I was going to move on. Pull myself up and keep living.

That was a lie though. This whole Paris life is a lie. I am hiding. I need to go home. I can feel it, you know? I can close my eyes and see myself in Berkeley, but I can't bear it. I can't deal with any of it. I saw her face in everything. I was drowning, but not because of anyone else, just because of myself. Just because I knew how things could be. I thought it was because Ryan couldn't move on like me, but it is because I am not ready to face the truth.

My daughter is dead. She's never coming back. She's not in Berkeley waiting for me. She'll never be there again. I have to get rid of that life I imagined for us all, but I can't. And if I can't do that, I certainly can't go home and let things happen as they may.

I need structure. I need a plan. I need to feel in control again.

* * *

And I found myself attached

To this railroad track

But I'll come back to you someday

To you, to you, to you someday

* * *

_Her eyes opened with the light from the bathroom. She stirred. "Ryan?" With a yawn, she added. "What time is it?" _

"_Its four." He sounded oddly energized, alert in a way she'd never expect him to be at this hour. "Go back to sleep." _

"_Where are you going?" After fourteen odd hours, they finally made it to Vegas at about eleven. The whole ride she'd tried to get him to open up, but he stayed quiet. She'd taunted him saying they should be honest about their pasts for the sake of the baby. She didn't understand. He wanted to keep his child as far away from his past as he could, wanted her to have as different a childhood than his as humanly possible. _

_He ignored her. "You have to be tired." He shut the door so only a sliver of light shone through. _

"_You didn't answer my question. Where are you going?" _

"_Taylor…" _

"_It's Vegas. Anything can happen. I need to know where to send the cops if you go missing." She joked. _

"_I'm just going downstairs." He sighed. "I'm going to go play blackjack." _

"_Oh." He imagined her teeth sliding out to cup her lip. She knew. "Well, tell the dealer I said hi." He grunted in response. As he flipped the light off, she added. "And try not to get in any fist fights, I don't want to have to drive home."_

* * *

And I remember how you told me

All that you wanted to do

The dream of Paris in the morning

Or a New York window view

And I can see it now you're married

And your wife is with a child

And you're all laughing in the garden

And I'm lost somewhere in your mind

* * *

Stepping off the elevator Taylor did a double take. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. This was all a mirage, a hallucination caused by one of the antidepressants she was on. It wasn't real.

She continued toward her apartment door, closer and closer still. The woman on her doorstep didn't move, her eyes glued to a thick book.

Within a foot of the dark haired illusion, she tentatively asked "Summer?" She was prepared to go straight into her room and collapse, prepared to sleep until the day was done, until her mind was clear again.

"Taylor!" Summer greeted, excitedly hopping to her feet. She dropped the book onto the floor. Taylor glanced at the front cover, it was a book on environmental law. Maybe she wasn't hallucinating after all.

Summer pulled her into a hug and held her tighter and longer than was comfortable for either of them. "It's so good to see you." She smiled. "So good."

Taylor nodded. "Yeah. You … what are you doing here?"

"In Paris?" Summer posited.

"Yeah. In Paris."

"Well it's finals week and I just have papers to turn in, electronically at that. So I thought about it and decided I'd much rather write them on the banks of the Seine than the banks of the Providence."

"You came to check up on me?"

"No!" Summer immediately shook her head. Taylor stared at her. "No. I came because I missed you. I haven't heard from you in a month, haven't seen you since…" Summer sighed, unable to finish the sentence.

"Since the funeral."

"Yeah." Summer nodded, squeezing Taylor's shoulder.

"Ryan didn't ask you to come, did he? Because I'm not ready, I am just not ready."

"Ryan doesn't know I'm here. Seth thinks I am in Seattle. I didn't tell anyone I was coming. It's just after Marissa died you came to me, you helped me through, and I wanted to return the favor."

"I kind of had an ulterior motive when I did that."

"I know, but this is bigger." She smirked. "Plus, my ulterior motive might have been a week in Paris where I didn't have to pay for a hotel room."

Taylor smiled despite herself. As much as she wanted wallow in self-pity, she couldn't. "It's really good to see you Summer." She paused and eventually managed. "I missed my sister."

"Me too." She grabbed her suitcase. "Now, are you going to let me in or not?"

* * *

If you've got visions of the past

Let them follow you down

For they'll come back to you someday

And I found myself attached

To this railroad track

But I'll come back to you someday

To you, to you, to you someday

* * *

**May 7, 2009**

**Berkeley, California **

I hear her voice every time I close my eyes.

She called and I am… well, don't get me wrong. I am thrilled. After I heard from Theresa and not her, I was starting to give up hope. I was starting to think she was going to stay in Paris forever and in a way she probably should. She deserves Paris. She's so sophisticated, cosmopolitan, you know? Such a Francophile. I am never going to be any of those things.

When I used to practice my French with her we could barely go five minutes without her bursting out into laughter. I never cared because I love her laugh. It's infectious. But I always wondered if I wasn't holding her back from the life she deserved. I can see it, you know? Everything I can't give her, apartment in Paris, summers in Spain, winters in the Alps. The life she probably dreamed of having back before our little accident. Back before Henri. Back before Marissa died.

S0 I … I am really happy she called. I am. It's just its like she's haunting me. Really, that's the best way I can describe it. She's not here and yet, when I close my eyes, she feels so close. Her voice is clearer than it has been the past few months. If I try hard enough, it's like I can even feel her touch.

Maybe I am just lonely. I don't know. Sandy and Kirsten try, you know? They try so hard, but it's not the same. When I was in Newport, in high school, I thought I was coming to understand what it was like to really have parents. Now, I get it. And I am so grateful, but it's not the same as having her.

I miss her and I knew I missed her before, but I was starting to forget why. I mean, she left. She left and I knew it wasn't her fault, at least not completely, but that didn't change the fact of the matter. Now though, I don't care. I just want her back. I do, but at the same time I am kind of relieved she is gone.

I close my eyes and I hear her voice and I can imagine her coming back and judging me because she has it all wrong. She thinks I am the bigger person. I am not. I can't even go home.

I've tried. I really have. Last time I stood in the doorway for thirty minutes. The Rodriguez's went out for their nightly walk and they made it around the block six times. Six fucking times and I couldn't even manage to go inside.

I stayed a month after she left, but then I fled and I really can't imagine going back. The pillows smell like her. Her grocery list is still on the fridge. You can't open the dresser drawers without smelling the little lavender satchel things she put in all of them. Then her face is everywhere. I don't how we have as many photos as we do, but we do and you can't walk up the stairs without her staring at you. There is an entire bookcase of her books in the living room. That vase she just had to buy on the mantel. And that's just Taylor, you know?

Beyond the reminders of her there are so many reminders of Aurelia that I can't even begin to deal with. I never thought I was a crier. You know? I never thought. I mean, my dad was physically abusive and my mom, emotionally so. It was … it was what it was. And it wasn't really them, it was the alcohol, but it wasn't the best upbringing and I never cried. Never. Just wasn't me.

Now though? I can cry just thinking about all those reminders of Aurelia and we're not even talking about her room. I can't think about that at all. Can't bear it.

And so Taylor calls and tells me all about how I am the bigger person and I don't know what to do because I am not. I am not even close and I want her to come back and see that I am better than I was, but there is so much to do to make that a reality and I don't even know where to begin.

* * *

Maybe I should just turn around

And walk away

For no matter how much I really do

Want to stay

You know I can't

No it's too late

* * *

_He hadn't aged. Ryan knew it had only been two years, but at the same time it all felt so long ago. It felt like a distant memory and he expected Trey to look different somehow. He didn't. He was the same Trey. The same person that had gotten him to steal a car. The same person Marissa had shot. The same person he'd looked after those three months against his better judgment. God. He wished there was something different about him. Maybe then he could feel something other than that odd mix of fear, rage, and loyalty. Maybe then his emotions wouldn't be so conflicted. _

_He walked over to him. His table was empty; even in Vegas four meant a lull on the casino floor. He sat down on a stool and waited for Trey to look at him._

_When their eyes met Trey almost smiled, stopping himself right before his lips locked in a curve. "Ryan? I didn't expect…"_

_Ryan didn't want to waste time with pleasantries. This wasn't pleasant for him. This was torture. "Take your break. Meet me outside in ten minutes." He didn't wait for a response. He stood up and headed toward the door. _

"_You look good man." Trey said fifteen minutes later when he met his brother outside. Ryan didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him with contempt. "I didn't know you were coming."_

"_Neither did I." Ryan shrugged. _

"_I get off at six. We could get breakfast. Catch up. I mean, I never…" _

_Ryan cut him off. "I'm not here for that. I don't want to catch up. Every time I try with you, everything gets screwed up. I am getting older. I don't have time for it anymore. I don't have the strength for it anymore. It's not worth it anymore."_

"_Right." All the hope in Trey's eyes disappeared. "I just. You're in Vegas. You stopped to see me. If you didn't want to talk, could have fooled me." _

"_Dad got out of jail." Ryan managed. "He came to see me six months ago and no one warned me. He just showed up. Wanted to catch up where we left off, but where we left off was with him an abusive drunk. Where we left off was you and I playing with toy cars in the closet. He's clean now. He seems like a nice enough guy and I can't bring myself to cut him off completely, but you were older. You remember more than I do and I think that's why he came to see me first, but he wants to see you. He's come to Vegas to see you. Him and Julie and they wanted me to come. So I came, but I really just came to warn you. Nobody warned me." _

"_Dad?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_And Julie?" Trey drew a blank. He thought it over for a minute. "Julie Cooper?"_

"_They're dating." _

"_Fucking Julie Cooper." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have listened to her. I screwed up. She wanted me to lie about you and I shouldn't have done it. I regret that everyday. I regret a lot of things. But that? That haunts me man. Sorry is never going to be enough, but I shouldn't have listened to her." _

"_You shouldn't have done a lot of things, Trey." _

_Trey pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He offered one to Ryan, who declined, and balanced another between his two fingers. He lit it with the same lighter Ryan remembered from his youth. The same lighter their father had always used. "Dad got out of jail?" Ryan nodded. "And started dating Julie Cooper?" He nodded again. "And now he's come here? What does he think is going to happen? You hate me and I hate him. This isn't going to be one of those movie moments. Everything isn't suddenly going to be okay between us. Why bother?" _

"_He just wants to apologize." Ryan said, offering a slight defense of Frank. He never expected that to happen._

"_Funny. 'Cause all I want to do is apologize to you and you don't want to hear it." Ryan just stared at him. Trey shrugged and managed a smirk. "So Frank and Julie? Marissa must love that."_

"_Marissa died."_

"_What?" Trey choked out. _

"_She died, a little over a year ago. The night we graduated." _

"_How?" _

"_Let's just say you weren't the worst guy she ever 'dated' after all." _

"_She died." Ryan nodded. Tears welled in Trey's eyes. Ryan never thought he'd see Trey on the verge of tears. "I never got to tell her. I never got make amends. I thought there'd be time and everything was just so fresh, you know? I didn't want the door automatically slammed in my face. And now it's too late. I never got to really apologize over everything that happened. God. I really screwed it all up." _

_They stood in silent for a minute. Ryan watched as a few tears rolled down Trey's cheeks. If this had been the first time Trey had screwed up things might be different, Ryan might have caved, but this wasn't the first time. Every time Ryan had extended an olive branch everything had blown up in his face. What was it they always said? Fool me once. _

_Ryan averted his gaze. "No you didn't. I mean, you screwed up a lot of things, but not everything. As for Marissa? What happened isn't her fault, but she knew you were trouble. She was always seeking up trouble. And as bad as you were to her, you weren't the guy that killed her. You're not the one that did her in." _

"_I can't believe she's dead." _

"_Neither can I."_

_Ryan watched the smoke from Trey's cigarette waft. Time seemed to slip away. The sounds of the strip disappeared. It was just the two of them. Everything else was still and silent. _

_After a few minutes, Ryan heard her say. "Is this your brother?"_

"_Taylor?" He turned toward her. Trey continued to stare off into the distance. "What are you doing?" _

"_I couldn't go back to sleep and then I started to think about what you were going to do and well, the more I thought about it the less I trusted you." _

"_You're supposed to be asleep." He put an arm around her protectively. She shook it off._

"_You wanted me to come, so I came. Please don't start acting like I'm a China doll. I am not going to break." Taylor sighed. "Is this your brother?" _

"_Yeah." With that affirmation, Trey tuned around. "Taylor, this is Trey." He introduced. "Trey, this is my friend Taylor." _

_Taylor waved, desperately trying to hide the sting she felt as Ryan called her his friend. Trey stared at her stomach. "Woah. You're…" _

"_Brunette?" Taylor asked facetiously._

"_Pregnant."_

"_That too." She smirked. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot… well, a little about you." _

"_Nice to meet you too." Trey gave her the once over. "You look kind of familiar." _

"_Yeah. We've met."_

"_You have?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. _

"_Uh-huh. It was junior year at that charity auction. My mom was, well, she was being my mom. She was berating me and Trey interrupted us and just gave it to her. It was kind of the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me." _

"_Right." Trey nodded. "She was calling you fat." He looked at her sincerely. "You weren't fat. I mean, you're not fat."_

"_It's just kind of hard to tell right now." She joked._

_Trey laughed, slightly uncomfortably. "So you just joined Ryan and came down for a little Vegas vacation?" Taylor couldn't help but smile over the fact that his confused look was exactly like Ryan's. They were brothers indeed. _

"_No. I just came down to support Ryan. I am just a good friend." She put emphasis on the word friend and shot Ryan a look._

"_I can see that. And I'm sure you'll be a good mother to him, when he's born." He said pointing to her belly._

"_It's a girl." Ryan corrected. "She's having…" Ryan felt Taylor's eyes on him. "We're having a girl." _

"_Seriously?" Ryan nodded. "I am going to be … I mean... Wow. Congratulations man. I mean, this is congratulations, right?" _

"_Yeah." Ryan smiled. _

"_You guys going to take advantage of one of the chapels out here?" _

"_No." They said in unison. "She turned me down," Ryan added. _

"_He didn't ask for the right reasons." _

"_Whatever. Marriage is overrated anyway. I mean mom and dad were married and look at that. I mean, that was hell. Just lots of screaming, but I am sure you'll do great and if you ever come back through town, I'll give you my address. I'd like to meet her." _

"_Well, I mean I'm sure we'll see you for dinner with Frank and Julie, Trey. But, if you wanted, we're not going to be able to go back to sleep anyway and I am getting a little hungry. So, we could grab some breakfast. If you wanted." Taylor suggested. _

_Trey looked eager for a minute but then, remembering what Ryan had said earlier, managed "No. That's probably not the best idea." _

_Taylor shot Ryan a look. "It's okay." He said. "We could."_

"_Yeah?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_I'll see if I can get Danny to cover the rest of my shift." Ryan watched as a smile spread across Trey's face. He couldn't remember him ever looking so happy._

* * *

For I've found myself attached

To this railroad track

But I'll come back you someday

To you, to you, to you someday

* * *

They had dinner at a café in the seventh arrondissement. The Eiffel Tower aglow in the skyline behind them. Summer couldn't help but marvel at it all. The fashion, the scenery, the smell, it was all perfect. There really was nothing like Paris in the spring time. She looked up at Taylor. She wasn't sure what to say. Neither of them was. All she wanted to do was ask her how she was doing, really doing, deep down. But she couldn't. She'd lied. She'd promised she wasn't there to check up on her. Likewise, all Taylor wanted to do was ask about Ryan, but how did you bring that up in conversation without sounding overeager? Without admitting you'd made a mistake?

They'd ordered crème brûlée for desert. Throughout dinner they'd avoided talking by eating slowly. Summer didn't know what they were going to do when the check came and the table was cleared. This had been a good idea in her head; but maybe it wasn't going to accomplish much in the grand scheme of things. After all, Taylor Townsend was strong willed. It wasn't like a few conversations were going to make her come home. This wasn't the movies. It didn't work like that.

"God. The weather here is so perfect." Summer managed, trying to make conversation.

"Well, it's spring. There's nothing like the spring." Taylor smirked. "Why is it still cold in Providence?"

Summer nodded. "It snowed last week."

"Oh. Wow. Yeah. I guess I've been really lucky. No snow since I got here."

"…Since you left." Summer muttered. Her head fell in shame. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Beg your pardon?" Taylor went pale.

"It's nothing. I didn't mean to… just forget it."

"What'd you say?"

"Taylor, please just forget I said anything. I didn't mean to." Her mouth was always getting her into trouble.

Taylor shook her head. "But you did. You did say something. So I can't just forget it."

"Taylor…"

"You're right. I mean I know you're right. I left. I did and I am sorry I did it. Okay? I am sorry I left. I am sorry if you or Seth thinks it was personal or something. Okay? But do you think it was easy? Do you think I wanted to go? 'Cause I didn't." She couldn't help the tears from falling down her cheeks. "I really didn't."

"I know."

"I just couldn't help it. You're never going to understand. They say it gets easier, but it's been over three months and it's not the slightest bit easier. It's worse everyday. And you can't just walk around miserably. People ask you questions and then you have to explain and it's none of their business. I used to be so good at putting up a façade. In middle school and high school, you remember? Of course you remember, you hated me because of it."

"I never hated you, Taylor. I just didn't know you."

She ignored her. "It's not socially acceptable. You have to fake it. You can't be a Julie Cooper zombie. And it was so hard. It was so hard there. People in Berkeley are so nice and when we moved there it was part of its charm, but by the end of February I just couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't. I was so numb and every time I tried to pretend that I wasn't it blew up in my face. Ryan couldn't even look at me. He couldn't and after a while, he stopped trying. He was the only one who understood and he just stopped trying."

"Taylor…" Summer reached out to grab her hand. She recoiled.

"Was I supposed to stay? Would you have stayed? Daughter buried in the ground. Love of your life acting like you were invisible. Forced to pretend like everything was okay. No family of your own. Nothing. Would you have stayed?"

"We're you're family."

"No. You're Ryan's family. You're always going to be his family first and there's nothing wrong with that. There isn't. But it means the first thing you can think about when you visit is that I left. _Not that Ryan was only physically there._ I get it. I do, but I already blame myself and there's only so much to go around." Taylor tried to catch her breath. "Besides, you weren't there. You were gone. You left and where the last two and half years even when you were away you were always coming back. You just stopped. You stopped flying back. You stopped calling everyday. You didn't even call every week. I needed you and you were a ghost. So yeah, I left, but would you have stayed?"

"I don't… I don't know."

"And you never will." She wiped her eyes with her napkin.

The waiter brought the dessert.

"I am not hungry anymore." Taylor grabbed some money from her purse and dropped it on the table. She pulled out a pad and wrote something on it. Summer watched on, unable to speak. "There's enough there from the check and a taxi." She slid a piece of paper across the table. "Here's the address, just in case you forgot." She pulled her keys from her bag and handed them across the table. "Take these, I know where the hide-a-key is. The silver one will get you in the building. The copper one will open the apartment. There are linens in the hall closet. You can make the sofa up, just grab some pillows from my bed."

"Taylor…"

"I am fine." She finished drying her eyes. "I promise, I am fine. I am just going to go for a walk. This is a great city for walking. That's all."

"I am not everyone else. You don't have to lie to me."

"Yes, I do. I came here to get away. I came here because I couldn't bear lying to the people I love. So, I came to a place where no one knows my name. That's how I am coping. Lying my way through it all. Fooling myself through it all. So yeah, if you're here I have to. I have to keep the bit going."

She bit her lip. "My whole life here is a lie."

* * *

_Song: Ghost Town by First Aid Kit_

Review? – S'il vous plaît


	9. Dawn

_Chapter Nine: Dawn_

* * *

Drink up, baby, stay up all night

With the things you could do, you won't but you might

The potential you'll be that you'll never see

The promises you'll only make

* * *

Summer didn't hear the door open when she came back to the apartment. It had to have been after midnight; she'd stayed up waiting until then. She figured Taylor must have tiptoed across the room, must have been quiet as a mouse, because she had never been a heavy sleeper. Her roommate at Brown had often woken her up when returning from a long evening of sexual escapades. Seth had too, the nights he stayed late at RISD working on his drawings. Why should tonight have been any different? All she'd wanted to do was give Taylor a full-fledged apology.

Then again, maybe she was just too scared that Taylor didn't want to hear it.

Whatever the case, she woke up a little after four to the sound of muffled tears. She sat on the couch paralyzed for a few minutes. Had she been the cause? Had she made an unexpected return back to her bullying ways? The way Seth and Taylor made it sound she used to be pretty good at making people feel worse about their lives and yet they both loved her. She wasn't sure how that worked. She thanked God for small favors, but she wasn't quite sure she understood. That she'd ever understand.

The sound of Taylor's tears broke her heart. Taylor had been right; she'd never understand what she'd been going through, what Ryan was going through. Two of the people she loved most in the world experiencing greater tragedy than she could fathom. She'd known what it was like to lose a best friend. That had been hard enough, but a daughter?

When Aurelia died, it had hit her like a freight train. She couldn't bear it. She felt as hopeless as she had after Marissa's death and Aurelia had made it less than two years. She'd known Marissa her whole life.

She'd already begun to imagine Aurelia's life though. She had planned out the advice she'd give her on boys, the knowledge she'd impart about the environment. She was going to be the best aunt ever. Now she wouldn't have the chance.

Sans niece, Taylor wasn't any less family. Taylor was her sister the way Marissa had been her sister. She often wondered if that made Taylor think she was a consolation prize. She wasn't. They'd been on the path to this before Marissa had died. They surely would have still been this close if Marissa had stayed alive. In fact, sometimes Summer liked to pretend that Marissa was still alive, living it up in the Greek Isles. She couldn't do the same with Aurelia. She hadn't lived long enough for Summer to be able to place her out of Ryan's arms. The limits of her imagination made the sting that much worse.

Taylor's crying continued in the other room. She peeled the blanket off of her and quietly headed toward the bedroom. She opened the door without so much as a word. She rubbed one of Taylor's shoulders as she sat next to her on the bed.

Taylor turned toward her, wiped some tears from her eyes and whispered, "Sorry."

Summer shook her head. "No."

"I just really miss her." Tears continued to fall down her cheeks.

"Of course you do." Summer pushed a few strands of hair from her forehead. "I do too."

"She was perfect." Taylor pushed herself up so she was sitting against the headboard.

"Yeah. She was." Summer agreed, as she too began to cry.

"I miss Ryan too, you know?"

"I know and he misses you."

"I just don't know how to deal with it all."

"That's 'cause you shouldn't have to." Summer put an arm around her and felt Taylor's head fall onto her shoulder. "You don't deserve this."

"Then why'd it happen?"

"I don't know." Summer let her head fall so that it was touched Taylor's. "I am sorry I stopped calling."

"Don't. You're here now." Taylor bit her lip. "Someone to talk to. I haven't had that in a while."

"Just stop lying to me, okay?"

"Okay."

Taylor cried until the sun came up and for once, it wasn't just out of sadness. For once, it was cathartic.

* * *

Drink up with me now and forget all about

The pressure of days, do what I say

And I'll make you okay and drive them away

The images stuck in your head

* * *

_The sound of his phone forced her out of her head. _

_"Hello?" She greeted, distraction apparent in her voice. She was rereading A Season for Peaches. She hadn't felt like herself lately, her body bogged down by a watermelon. She was trying to remember the person she had been the summer prior. The person she had been the night they'd gotten themselves into this situation to begin with: kinks, fetishes, flexibility and all._

"_Hello." The voice on the other line sounded confused. "I was looking for Ryan."_

"_Right. Of course." She closed the book, put a hand on her stomach and pushed herself off the couch. She'd been compiling a list of things that weren't as easy as they used to be over the past couple of weeks. Getting out of bed and off the couch were numbers one and two, respectively. _

"_I am sorry, may I ask who this is?" The voice sounded genuinely curious, and simultaneously worried about prying. _

"_Taylor. Taylor Townsend." _

"_Oh!" She imagined the person on the other end of the line nodding. "You gave a speech at the graduation." _

"_Yeah. I did." _

"_I am sure it was great and I wish I'd understood it. I just don't speak Latin." _

_She smiled. "Well you weren't alone." Taylor slipped her shoes on and headed toward the garage. They'd recently cleaned it out and made a makeshift office. To make up for her mood swings, she'd bought him a drafting table. At first he'd gotten upset with her for spending so much money without consulting him, but it only took him a few hours to come around, by which time he was at a loss for words. Over dinner that night he'd managed to thank her and tell her it was the nicest gift anyone had ever given him. He said he was going to make it up to her; he was going to use it to design a desk for her. That way they could spend time in the garage together: him working on his drafting, her translating her poetry. _

_As she headed out the door, she managed to ask. "Who can I say is calling?" _

"_His mother." _

"_Ms. Atwood?" Her hand instinctively fell to her stomach. She wondered how long it had been since Ryan had spoken to his mother. _

"_Actually, it's Mrs. Coleman now, I got remarried." _

"_Oh. Ryan didn't tell me that." _

"_He doesn't know." _

"_Right." She opened the door to the garage and walked toward him. "One second." He turned to her and smiled. _

"_Hey." He greeted, resting a hand on her belly when she was within his reach. Despite all the fear he had, the anxiety he felt over their future, he couldn't deny that everything always felt like it was going to be alright when he felt the life move inside her. _

_She looked at him seriously, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's your mother." _

"_What?" _

"_Your mother." She repeated handing the phone to him. _

_He sighed as he grabbed it from her. Had it really been over a year since he'd spoken to his mother? He used his hand to insinuate he needed some privacy. She took the hint and headed back toward the house. "I'll be in the living room, if you need me." _

_He nodded and waited until she was out of sight. "Hello?" He greeted. _

"_Ryan?" _

"_Hey ma." He smiled at the sound of her voice. _

"_You're pretty hard to track down, did you know that?"_

"_I do now."_

"_I thought we'd turned over a new leaf after graduation, you know? I thought we were going to keep in contact, but I kept calling and you never called me back." _

"_Yeah. I know." He hit himself in the head. "I just went through a bad time for a while and then by the time things were back to normal, you stopped calling." _

"_You changed your number."_

"_Yeah. We moved to Berkeley." _

"_I know, for school. I thought most people kept the same numbers they had in their hometowns when they do that though." _

"_They do." He sighed. "But I never started Berkeley. We all moved here a couple months ago. The Cohens and I." _

"_You never started college?" He could hear the anger in her voice. She tried to control herself. "What are you talking about you never started college? I thought you had your head on straight. That's why I was okay with you not calling me back. I thought you were busy with your education. Well that and I thought I'd embarrassed you."_

"_Embarrassed me?" _

"_You know, at the graduation."_

"_No. No. You didn't." _

"_That's a relief then, I guess. But now we've got a larger problem. Why aren't you in school?" _

"_I deferred is all. I am starting in the fall. That's all. Really. I am still going to Berkeley." _

_She sighed. "You seemed so ready though. Why'd you defer?" _

"_I thought you were keeping in contact with Sandy?" _

"_He got me out of that bind and I was really grateful, but I was always too embarrassed to call him after that." _

"_So you never heard about Marissa?"_

"_Never heard what?" _

"_That day you left. Remember, I was going to drive her to the airport?"_

"_Yeah." _

"_Well, I was driving her to the airport and her ex-boyfriend followed us. He was really upset, with her, with me. I don't know. He was upset. Probably drunk too. And he wanted to get me to pull over and I wouldn't. I mean I didn't really know what was going on. We didn't know what was going on. Now I think I probably should have just done it. Anyway, he drove us off the road and Marissa… well, she died."_

"_What? No." She went silent for a minute, before adding quietly, " I always liked her." _

_Ryan smirked. "Me too. But she died and I blamed myself. I was in a really bad place for a while. A really bad place, but don't worry. I am better now. Things are better." He looked through the window that looked into the house and saw Taylor making tea in the kitchen. "A lot better. But that's why I didn't call you back. I wasn't really talking to anyone. Then when I finally got back to the land of the living, things happened so fast and I just… you just slipped my mind and I am really sorry about that. I am so sorry." _

"_Ryan, honey. You never have to apologize to me. I owe you more apologizes than I am every going to be able to give you." _

"_No." Ryan shook his head. _

"_Yes." Dawn paused. "Do you have a pen? 'Cause I want you to write down my new number." _

"_Yeah. I do." _

"_It's 208.563.5243. I moved to Boise. Well we moved, going on six months ago." _

"_We?"_

"_Ron and I."_

"_Oh. You're still with Ron." Ryan wasn't sure how to feel about that. _

"_Yeah, sweetie... We got married." _

"_Pardon?"_

"_We got married."_

"_You and Ron?" Ryan really wasn't sure how to feel about that. He had a hard enough time even trying to get the words to come out of his mouth. _

"_Yeah." _

"_Oh." Silence fell over them._

"_I see the valedictorian answered your phone." _

"_Taylor?" _

"_Yeah. Taylor." She chuckled. "I remember her from your graduation. Seemed like such a weird girl." _

"_Well it's part of her charm." _

"_I bet it is. You two dating?" _

"_Yeah." In this moment he was ashamed. How had he not told her? How had he spent the year ignoring her? How had their last visit made it seem like they were on the right track to a normal relationship? "It's actually a little more serious than that." _

"_You didn't get married too, did ya?" She joked. _

"_No. No." Ryan paused. "But Taylor and I are living together." _

"_Oh well. That's perfectly normal, right? I mean I was living with my boyfriend when I was your age. I'd prefer it if you were staying with Kirsten and Sandy, but they're close right? And I am sure she's really smart. Not like I was." _

"_Yeah. She's great. But ma?" She replied with affirmation. "That's not all." He wasn't sure how to say this. It was true that he hadn't answered her calls those five months because he was in a bad place, but after February he hadn't called because he'd been too embarrassed. If she hadn't called him now he wondered when he would have told her they were having a baby. "She's pregnant." He managed so quietly that she would have had to be the bionic woman to hear him. _

"_I am sorry. I didn't catch that." _

"_Taylor and I…" He began. His voice was shaky. "We're, um, we're having a baby." _

"_What?"_

"_Taylor, she's pregnant." _

"_I thought that's what you said." He heard his mother sigh. "How did this happen?"_

"_We were messing around and it'd been a while since either of us had... you know? And it's not like we had really planned to do it. So we forgot to use a condom and she hadn't been as consistent with her pill as she should have been." He shrugged. "It just happened." _

"_You got a girl pregnant? Christ, if I had wanted you to do that, I would have taken you back to Chino with me." _

"_I know, but we figured it out and I am still going to Berkeley. It's not exactly how any of us planned things, but we've got it under control." _

"_Sure, it seems like it and then the kid gets there and it's just easier to quit. So that's exactly what you'll do." _

"_Taylor won't let me do that. You don't know her. She would never let me do that. She likes plans and that's what we're going to do, we're going to stick to the plan."_

"_You watch. The closer you get to her due date the more that plan is going to change." _

_His voice fell._ "_She's due at the beginning of September." _

"_W-what?" _

"_It happened during New Years. She's due at the beginning of September." _

"_Seven months ago. She got pregnant seven months ago and you didn't tell me?"_

"_I was embarrassed." He managed. _

"_You were embarrassed? Jesus, Ryan. I know you have a nice new family and I wasn't there when I needed to be, but I figured the least you could do was tell me when I was going to be a grandmother." He heard her start to cry. "Is this really what it's come to?"_

_Ryan sat quietly on the other line. He was ashamed and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. His heart broke in his chest. The tables had turned. For the first time in his life he felt like a bad son to a caring mother._

* * *

People you've been before that you

Don't want around anymore

That push and shove and won't bend to your will

I'll keep them still

* * *

Taylor awoke to the sound of pans clanking. She looked to her left. Summer was gone. When had that happened? She couldn't remember. She wasn't even sure when she'd fallen asleep. Not that that mattered, for the first time in a long time she felt refreshed. She stretched and glanced at the alarm clock. It was noon. However long had she been asleep, it must have been a new record. She couldn't remember the last time she'd managed to get in more than three hours. That is, she couldn't remember getting more than three hours when she wasn't medicated.

She rolled out of bed and walked out to the kitchen. "You didn't have much." Summer greeted looking up from the stove.

"I don't cook much." Taylor yawned.

"I found enough to make pancakes." Her smile fell to a frown. "No syrup though."

"They don't really have that here."

"Point one America." Summer muttered, handing her a cup of coffee.

She let the aroma fill her nasal cavities. "You didn't have to do this."

"You kidding?" Summer asked, "Saturday morning breakfast, its tradition. Might be a little quieter than it used to but still. Tradition."

Taylor took a sip of the dark brown liquid. "A lot quieter." She managed.

"Quieter isn't necessarily a bad thing." Summer said, turning from Taylor's gaze and watching her pancakes harden in silence. She wasn't sure what to say. She was trying for a nice reminder of home, but Taylor's face had fallen. Maybe they'd have to have entirely new traditions. Maybe they'd have to try and be entirely new people.

"In this case it is." Taylor whispered.

Summer switched the burner off and turned back toward her friend. "Taylor, sit down."

"Hmm?"

"I want you to sit down." Summer took the coffee from her and escorted her over to the couch. "We're going to try a little exercise."

"Exercise?" Taylor scowled, plopping down on the couch per Summer's instructions.

"Um. Hmm." Summer sat down in an armchair across from her. "Now, I want you to close your eyes." Taylor obliged.

"Imagine you're in Berkeley. It's July, but it's still in the sixties. It's always in the sixties. You come in from outside. Aurelia is poised on your hip." She watched Taylor gulp when she heard her daughter's name. She opened her mouth to speak. Summer shook her head. "No. You have to commit to the exercise. Are you committed to the exercise?"

Taylor nodded.

"You come in from outside." Summer repeated. "Aurelia is poised on your hip. You've been watching her waddle around outside. Her walk is new and adorable. You have a smile plastered on your face. You're just so happy. You come in from outside. The blue walls of the kitchen are inviting. They say this is not a house. This is a home. You love the color because Ryan picked it out.

"I am standing in front of the stove making chocolate chip pancakes. There is maple syrup on the counter. You look out into the living room. Seth and Ryan are playing bridge at the dining room table, because they've both finally admitted that they're old men masquerading as twenty-something's. You walk over to Ryan. Aurelia is babbling about something. No one knows what it is. No one will ever know what it is. When you're within his reach, he pulls you in close to him, hugs your hips. You bend over, let him kiss your cheek and hand him the baby. She plays with the cards he has in his hand. Seth jokes that she's helping him cheat.

"You walk over to me in the kitchen and tell me about how the food smells incredible. You squeeze my shoulders. Aurelia babbles in the background. Seth and Ryan keep yelling at each other; they're really into the game."

Summer noticed the glint of tears in Taylor's eyes. "Keep your eyes closed." Summer inhaled sharply. "Is that memory any less vivid? Now that Aurelia's dead is that memory any less vivid?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Is it any less meaningful?"

Her head slid back and forth again.

"Your head is filled with memories like that, are they going anywhere anytime soon?"

"No." Taylor managed in a whisper.

"No." Summer repeated firmly. "And if those memories aren't any less valid. If they're not going anywhere, then what makes this any less valid? Why can't we keep our Saturday morning tradition? The past is the past and its still there and if we want to, we can find it. But we're in the present and right now that means you and I. It means Paris. It means pancakes, no syrup. It means no babbling in the background. No bridge at the dining room table."

Summer grabbed Taylor's hands and looked at her hopefully. "And that's okay. Isn't it?"

Taylor let her eyes open. "Yeah." She broke free from Summer's grip and started to wipe the tears from her eyes. "It's okay."

"Yeah?" Summer asked.

"Yeah." Taylor smiled.

Summer walked back to the stove, turned on the burner, and poured the batter the second she heard the butter sizzle in the pan.

Taylor turned her head and stared out at the skyline. Summer was right. She couldn't change the past. Couldn't dwell in it either. She had to cherish her memories while simultaneously holding her head high and moving on with her life.

* * *

I'll keep them still

* * *

_They took a cab to her apartment building. Taylor watched the meter as he sat paralyzed. After three dollars had been added she patted him on the knee. "Come on."_

"_I can't." He murmured. _

"_Yes, you can. If I can fit in the seat of a plane and sit, more or less, comfortably for two hours, you can get out of this cab. Come on."_

"_This was your idea." He reminded her._

"_Yeah and you went along with it for a reason." She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. "Seriously, you need to come on because I am going to need your help getting out of the taxi." _

_He unbuckled his seat belt and hurried to help her up. "Thanks." _

"_Back at you." He said, as he pulled out his wallet and handed the cab driver a twenty. As he turned back around, Taylor watched the way he stared at the building. _

"_What?" She asked. _

"_It's just, it sounded like things had changed, but we lived in places like this, you know? We lived in places like this and it's just really hard to imagine her being sober here." _

"_Well, Ron had been sober for what? Eight years? If they're together, it's safe to say she's not drinking."_

"_Yeah. You're probably right. I just don't…" He sighed. "I don't think I can do this. I love her. I just don't trust her; besides, I can't deal with her judging you. Judging us." _

"_Well, that's why were here, right?" She smirked, "To put her mind at ease."_

"_I guess." _

"_You guess?" She laughed. "What's the apartment number?" _

"_2B. Why?" _

"'_Cause I'll go and you can come up when you think you're ready." _

"_I couldn't ask you to do that." _

"_You're not asking. I am offering." _

_He grabbed her hands tenderly, closed his eyes and pulled her in for a kiss. "You're really terrific, you know that?" _

"_I try." She joked. _

"_No. Really. You're unbelievable and I love you. I can't even imagine going through this with anyone else. With you everything feels like it's going to be all right." _

_He paused. "You just need to know how special you are to me. How great these past few months have been for me, especially if you're going to meet my mother." Her face went beet red and tears started to roll down her cheeks. "Are you crying?" He asked._

"_I can't help it." She sighed, wiping her eyes. "It's the hormones." _

_He laughed. _

"_I love you too." She added, biting her lip._

* * *

Drink up, baby, look at the stars

I'll kiss you again, between the bars

Where I'm seeing you there, with your hands in the air

Waiting to finally be caught

* * *

**May 12, 2009**

**Berkeley, California**

When my mom had her first drink in three years, she called me.

This was a few months ago; she called me and left a drunken message. She said she felt that she was a bad omen. She'd ruined everything. Both her boys had spent time in jail. Trey was a blackjack dealer in Vegas with a record, capable of returning to his old ways at any moment. And me, I was her golden boy, but for a while she'd given up on me. And more than that she'd always have to deal with the fact that everything I'd accomplished, that I'd ever accomplish was because the Cohens adopted me. She was the great obstacle I had to overcome.

She kept asking why I went to visit her. Why'd we ever go meet her in Reno? She reminded me that I hadn't been very forthcoming with the fact that Taylor was pregnant to begin with. What difference did it make to me if she'd ever meet Aurelia? Aurelia had the Cohens after all. Better role models than she could ever be.

You can hear her swigging Jameson in background. At least, I imagine it's Jameson. That was always her drink of choice.

She said it was her fault and I agreed. In the back of my mind, I agreed. Why the hell had we gone to see her anyway? She could have come to us. If she had come to us, this would have never happened. You and I wouldn't be talking right now. Things would be how they were supposed to be.

In that moment, I decided I hated my mother. The only good thing she'd ever done was sign away her rights to me. This is a lie of course, I don't really hate her and she did have her moments. I do have good memories of her, but the thing is what she said is kind of true.

I would not have been the person I am today if I had stayed in Chino. I probably would have gotten Theresa pregnant for real. Worse, I'd probably be locked in a jail cell right about now.

I do this thing sometimes where I pretend my life started when I was fifteen. Everything that happened before Trey and I stole that car, that's just white noise. It doesn't matter. The Cohens matter. Newport matters. Berkeley matters. Chino? That's just a bad dream.

After Taylor and I went to see my mom in Boise, we'd made it a point to talk at least twice a month. Sometimes we'd even Skype. It was all becoming normalized. I had the Cohens, but for the first time I had her too. Really had her. This woman I never got to know, because for the majority of my life she was drunk. For the majority of my life she wasn't really herself.

I remember the day I told her what happened. She answered the phone so happily, so proud that I was her son, so proud she'd finally gotten to meet her granddaughter. And it killed me. My heart sunk in my chest and somehow the words just fell out of mouth. You know?_ There was an accident. You're not a grandmother anymore. Aurelia died. _

She tried to be there for me after that. Tried to call. Tried all these different tactics, but I pretended that she didn't exist. I didn't want her to exist. I resented her. She'd screwed up my childhood. She made me want to forget the majority of my life. I'd finally extended an olive branch, finally pretended that everything was normal and my daughter died. I took that as proof that nothing good would ever come out of our relationship.

And like I said, I don't blame Taylor over what happened. That is, I don't blame her any more than I blame myself and I blame myself more than anyone, with one exception. Sometimes, I blame my mother. And I shouldn't but I do.

She knows it too. She knows it.

I always felt growing up that we were at the root of her drinking; Trey and I. We'd driven her to drink. But when she left that message, for the first time it was true. She'd been doing so well and in my inability to call her back, to acknowledge her, to accept her love and support I'd driven her back to the bottle.

She went back to A.A. the next day. Ron called me and told me that. Told me she wasn't going back to her old ways that he wouldn't let her. She'd been clean too long to go back, he'd said, but I didn't care. I didn't care anymore, because I'd made a plan in my head to cut her out of my life. 'Cause nothing good ever happened when Dawn Atwood was in the picture.

My dad brought pictures over last week. Frank, that is, my biological father, he brought pictures of my childhood. Told me that I should really call my mom. That's all he said. He could tell I didn't want to see him either. I don't know how he knew I hadn't called her; I mean she wouldn't have called him, would she have? I don't know anymore.

I just know that looking through it all I was reminded of everything she'd ever done for me. Everything I'd forgotten, everything I'd come to deny. And I felt that much worse about everything. You know? I couldn't even tell Taylor about my childhood. Not anything of substance. Just told her that I did musicals. Superficial stuff like that.

I realize now how wrong that was. How wrong I've been these last six years. The past is real. You can't forget it. It'll always be there. It'll always be important. Pretending that who you are now is independent of that is just a massive lie; which makes me a liar.

Sunday was Mother's Day and I called my mom and for the first ten minutes, I just cried. I told her how important to me she actually is and how wrong I've been. We spent the next few hours just reminiscing on those first fifteen years of my life and for the first time I saw things in a new light. For the first time, I was homesick.

When Taylor comes back, the first thing I am going to do is tell her about Chino. I am going to tell her about my childhood. The good, the bad, the ugly. She's going to hear it.

For once, I am going to be as honest with her as she's always been with me.

* * *

Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine

Keep you apart, deep in my heart

Separate from the rest, where I like you the best

And keep the things you forgot

* * *

_She knocked on the door and tried to wait patiently for an answer. She could hear movement. Someone was definitely inside. A few moments passed, she rested a hand on her belly. She and Ryan really were the same. She couldn't help but be amused by that. Both of them too scared to tell their parents they were expecting. It was easier this way she supposed; this way neither of them took it personally that they hadn't shared the news. They both understood. Despite their different class backgrounds, their childhoods had been relatively similar. Every day had been a fight to be seen, to be loved, to be wanted._

_She felt a kick and tried really hard not to cry. She prayed they'd do better, prayed that their child would never have to feel that way. _

_No answer. _

_She knocked on the door again. As she waited for an answer, she started pacing. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't her mother. It must have been her perpetual need to be liked, to one day be a good daughter-in-law. It was moments like this that she hated that about herself. _

"_Look, if you're selling something. I am not buying." She heard through the door. "Read the sign, no soliciting." _

"_Hmm?" Taylor murmured confused. "No. Ms. At… Ms. Coleman, it's Taylor Townsend. Your son and I are, uh, we're dating." _

_The door opened slowly. She wanted to sink into the railing behind her. "Taylor Townsend?" His mother said tentatively as she stood in the doorway. _

_Taylor struggled to look her in the eye. "Yes'um." _

"_What are you doing here?" _

"_Ryan told me he'd told you about," she used her hands to emphasize her abdomen. "And that you seemed really upset and I get it you know, I mean Ryan's really smart and when he moved in with the Cohens, I am sure you imagined his life going a different way entirely. I mean we certainly didn't plan this. This is the epitome of an accident, but we're rolling with it. You know? And I thought if you could see that you'd feel more comfortable about it. But if you're upset or angry that I am here, I can go. Come back some other time, or never, if you prefer." _

_Taylor looked on nervously as Dawn managed a smile. "Goodness, look at you." _

_Taylor stepped in closer to her so she could take a better look. "Yeah." She said softly._

"_Can I?" She asked holding out her hand. Taylor nodded. "Oh. Woah. Wow." The smile on Dawn's face expanded. "I haven't felt anything like that in a while. Quite the little soccer player you have there must take after Ryan. He used to play, you know?"_

"_Yeah. I know." She bit her lip. "And she really does. She really likes to kick. So much so that it gets old, but after a while it's endearing again. Plus Ryan, he can get her to stop. It's amazing, you know? If he talks to her, he can get her to stop."_

"_Her?" _

"_Yeah." Taylor smiled. "We're having a girl." _

"_I'd always hoped I'd have a girl, but it wasn't meant to be. Got two boys instead."_

"_Well now you'll have a granddaughter." _

"_Yeah. Wow. I can't. I don't even know what to say. This is just such a surprise, you know?" _

_Taylor chuckled. "Believe me, I know."_

"_How much longer?" _

"_I've got two months." _

"_Two months?" Dawn shook her head. "Two months and I am making you stand in the hallway? Where are my manners? Come in, sit down." Taylor obliged. _

"_Nice place." She offered. _

"_We manage." Dawn shrugged. "Can I get you something to drink? Some water?"_

"_Water would be great."_

"_How are your parents dealing with this?" She asked, filling a glass from the tap. _

"_My mom is dealing with it better than I expected her to, but we're really not that close. And my dad, well, he lives in San Diego with his new family and I never see him. If he knew he'd probably be too ashamed to acknowledge it. It's really fine though. He's been ignoring me my whole life. C'est la vie." _

"_You did really well in school, didn't you?"_

"_Yeah. I mean I was valedictorian." Taylor nodded, taking the glass of water from Dawn's hands. She took a sip. "I got a 2400 on my SATs. I went to the Sorbonne for a while."_

"_The Sorbonne?" Dawn struggled to mimic Taylor's pronunciation._

"_It's like the Oxford of France." She smiled. "But I wasn't happy there and this might not be the way we expected things to go, but I can say I am about a thousand times happier. We know this is crazy. We know it's going to be overwhelming and that we're going to be tired and at times we're going to break. But I am very driven and so is your son. That's not going to change because we have a baby. It's not. We both want nothing more than to provide for this child and we'll do just that. Even if it's ridiculously hard, it's what we're going to do. So, you can and should rest easy. Ryan is still going to Berkeley. He starts in September. I'll start in January. We'll both get part-time jobs and if that takes a while it's fine because I have access to the beginnings of a trust fund and my tuition to Berkeley is covered by scholarships. Plus, we have a really strong support system. Kirsten and Sandy are three miles away. It's going to be okay." _

_A hand fell to her abdomen. "This isn't the end of our lives, for some people our age it might be. But for us? It's not the end. It's the beginning."_

_Dawn nodded as she took it all in. "He was right, you're really put together." _

"_About this I am."_

"_Where is he?" _

"_He was nervous, so I offered to come up first. I mean he was really great when I went through what I went through with my mom, so I figured it was the least I could do. He's out front. Probably pacing around the parking lot." _

_Dawn smirked. "You two thought up any names yet?"_

"_We tried once, a while ago, but then we started to fight. So we just stopped." _

"_What do you call her?" _

"_You know, she, her, it, baby." Taylor's head fell. "The classics." She muttered. _

"_Ryan and Trey. That's just what Frank started calling them when I was pregnant. They stuck, obviously. It's a really good idea to pick the name together though. 'Cause when Frank and I started going through everything that we went though, let's just say I almost changed their names like a thousand times." Dawn shook her head. "I mean, you don't have to worry about that, but it is nice to be personally invested."_

"_Yeah." _

"_I just wish I could be closer is all. Wish I had the money to visit on weekends."_

_Before Taylor could respond there was a knock at the door. "That'll be Ryan." _

_The second she pulled the door open, Dawn enveloped Ryan in a hug. "I am really glad you came. I missed you." _

"_I missed you too ma." Ryan replied, managing a smile. Had he been nervous for nothing? He noticed as his mother started to cry. He wasn't sure if it was out of sadness or joy, but as she ushered him into the apartment, she whispered. "Hold on to this one. She's great. I love her." _

_He let his smile grow. Yeah. He loved her too._

* * *

People you've been before that you

Don't want around anymore

That push and shove and won't bend to your will

I'll keep them still

* * *

**May 13, 2009**

**Paris, France**

I opened my mailbox today to find mail from Ryan. It was a Mother's Day card, a few days late, but that's the international postal system for you. I brought it with me. I've read it like a hundred times in the past few hours. Can I read it to you?

Yeah?

Dearest Taylor…. We never had any pet names for each other. If we had, he probably would have used one, but we didn't. But you know, after Henri, I didn't really want one. I mean, they're kind of dehumanizing, aren't they? With Henri, I was never Taylor. I was his "pêche" whoever that was.

You should look at the way he writes the word dearest. It's so delicate, almost unlike him. Dearest Taylor. Like he spent extra time perfectly crafting every letter.

Anyway.

_"Dearest Taylor,_

_I've been hiding from all these holidays. Valentine's Day, Saint Patrick's Day, birthdays, I've been hiding. No more though. No more._

_I was walking around the pharmacy and they had a wall of Mother's Day cards. I'd almost forgotten about Mother's Day, so I looked through the rack until finally, I saw this card and was reminded of you._

_I hope that this doesn't upset you. I hope you understand the intent._

_Because the thing is, you don't deserve one Mother's Day card on your mantle. Aurelia may be gone, but you were amazing. You are amazing. The way you are as a mother deserves to be celebrated. Period. End of sentence._

_I realize now that you don't stop being a mother when your child is gone. It doesn't happen that way. In my heart, I am always going to be a father and you; you're always going to be a mother. If we'd stopped being parents when she died, we wouldn't hurt the way we do. We'd have moved on. But here we are. That is, here I am and there you are._

_This card is for you. It's for all the ways we played out those eighteen years in our heads. It's for how perfect our daughter was. It's for how amazing you continue to be. It's for this shouldn't have happened. It's for we may be cursed, but I am not content with just rolling over and accepting that._

_May 10, 2009 is for you. No matter how sad you are, no matter how sad we are, this day is for you. No one can take that away from you, because once a mother, always a mother and you were the best._

_I promise this Sunday to celebrate your honor._

_Happy Mother's Day._

_Yours Always. Love Always. _

_Ryan"_

Last year, we went out to brunch. All of us: Kirsten, Sandy, Seth, Summer, Julie, Frank, Kaitlin, Ryan and I. They snuck me a mimosa. They all got me gifts. The toast was in my honor. They said the first year was always the hardest and that we'd gotten through it like it was nothing. They were envious.

I felt accomplished, like I'd done the impossible. Gotten pregnant at eighteen, but still held on to all my dreams. No self-pity. No resentment. I was happier than I'd ever been.

This year, I would have dissolved into self-pity if Summer hadn't been there. She didn't give me a second's rest. No. Sunday she woke me up at the crack of dawn. We took the train to Brussels. She said she couldn't be this close to Belgium and not eat a real waffle. It'd be a travesty, she said. An inexcusable travesty.

I pretended I didn't realize the significance of the date, but I knew she was trying to keep me busy so that I didn't have time to think about any of it. And I was grateful and it honestly was a good day. Not a phenomenal day like May 11, 2008 had been, but it was solid.

No one called though. Ryan didn't. Seth, Sandy, Frank, Kirsten, Kailtin, no one. That is until right after midnight when Julie Cooper rang. The one person I actively avoided in Berkeley.

Frank, Kaitlin, and her moved down right after Aurelia was born. They said they were just trying to start their lives together somewhere new, but I knew better. Babies bring people together and ours was no exception. They wanted to get to watch her grow up. Frank had missed out on so much of Ryan's life and what he had been around for, well, let's just say he wasn't of sound mind. This was their shot.

After Aurelia died, people acted like Julie was the one person I should talk to. She knew what it was like to lose a daughter. They didn't understand though. I hated Julie. _Hated her._

She may have lost her daughter, but she'd gotten to watch her grow up. Marissa was eighteen when she died. She had eighteen years of memories. She knew when Marissa looked like as an adult. She knew when Marissa had read for the first time, had taken her to her first day of school. She'd been there for her first heartbreak. She'd gotten to teach her about the ways of the world. What her life might have been like after eighteen was a mystery, sure. But everything wasn't a mystery.

I am left with gaps. Nothing but gaps. Gaps that I have to use my imagination to fill in. I used to think that your imagination could set you free, but really, it just traps you. Smothers you. So no. Her loss and my loss weren't the same. They couldn't be the same.

Plus she had Kaitlin. All I had was Ryan and I was invisible to him.

Sunday though, it's like everything clicked. Sunday, I didn't need Ryan, Seth, Summer, Frank, Kirsten, or Kaitlin. I really didn't even need Summer. I needed Julie. And she knew that and so she called. We talked for three hours. And all that resentment I'd had for her in Berkeley floated away. For the first time, we were on an equal playing field. I couldn't be jealous for all the things she had that I didn't because that had happened after Marissa died.

Her life hadn't ended with Marissa and for the first time I really realized that neither had mine.

For the first time I realized that the future isn't ominous after all.

The future is possibility.

* * *

_Song: Between the Bars by Elliott Smith_

Review? – S'il vous plaît


	10. Wrong and Right

_Chapter Ten: Wrong and Right_

* * *

She'll lie and steal and cheat,

And beg you from her knees

Make you thinks she means it this time

She'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair

But I still love her, I don't really care

* * *

"_How are you?" The words floated around in his head. How was he? He wasn't sure he knew. He looked over at her curled up on the couch, eyes closed, peaceful. People always asked about her. Not him. _

"_I am good. I mean Taylor and…" he began. _

"_No. Honey." He watched as Kirsten shook her head from side to side. "How are _you_?" _

"_I am good." He repeated with a shrug. _

"_Just good?" Sandy looked up at him from his coffee. _

"_Yeah. I guess. Good. Just good." He sighed. He felt their eyes on his. He had to elaborate. "I haven't been able to find a job yet, but other than that things are fine." _

"_You'll find something. You always find something." Sandy assured him. _

"_I know. I know. I am just…" He stopped himself short. _

"_Just?" Kirsten asked. _

"_It's nothing." _

"_It's obviously not nothing." She prodded. _

"_You can talk to us." Sandy added. _

"_Seth's almost been gone two months and Taylor's…" Kirsten began._

"_About to pop." Sandy finished. They made completing each other's sentences seem effortless. _

"_Still got another seven weeks." Ryan said to himself._

"_Oh. Those go by like that." Sandy snapped his fingers. "I mean you blink once and you look down and you've got a baby in your arms." _

"_It's just Seth's been gone for two months and you haven't had a Seth…" _

"_We're not doing this again, are we?" He asked wearily. _

"_What? I thought I was a very good Seth." Sandy joked. _

"_Your impression was pretty dead-on, but Kirsten was more helpful." _

"_The point is you can talk to us." _

"_About anything. Things you wouldn't normally tell us. Things you can't tell Taylor. We're here." _

"_I know." _

"_But you're good?" Sandy asked. "Just good?" _

_Ryan looked into his coffee. He twirled a spoon in the dark liquid, the creamer making clouds in his cup. Why had he used creamer? He hated creamer. He liked his coffee black, liked it bitter and pure. He hadn't been thinking when he grabbed the bottle, had poured it in a trance and now he was stuck. Stuck in an uncomfortable situation with an undrinkable drink. He'd just keep twirling his spoon until he was alone, until he could pour the liquid out without feeling bad. Or until he had to chug it, too cold and sweet, on his way out. _

_He stood silently for a minute. His parents stared at each other hopefully, silently praying that they could get a look into their boy's head for a minute. Taking a deep breath he muttered, "I am scared." _

"_What?" Kirsten asked. His voice so soft that she couldn't hear him the first time. _

"_I am scared." He repeated._

"_That's normal." _

"_I know, but it doesn't change the fact that I am terrified." He sighed. "Terrified and its not like I can tell Taylor, because she'll get nervous and read into it. I love her but I know her and if I tell her she'll question my love for her and we don't need that." _

"_She's probably scared too." _

"_It's different though. In the last month, I've seen my mom, Frank, and Trey. I saw my parents and my brother and all I could think was how disconnected I feel from them. How they don't feel like family, how all those years with them feel like a bad dream. The thing is, I am not scared that we're having a baby. I am scared because as much as I downplay it in my mind, I remember my childhood. I remember my father getting drunk and using my mom as a punching bag. I remember the times he hit me. I remember the police hauling him off to jail. I remember us moving to Chino. I remember my mom getting blackout drunk most nights. I remember Trey getting into trouble. I remember all the boyfriends mom never tried to stop from beating me. I remember everything and I don't want to, but I do. I am scared because you're my family now. You two make the other stuff okay, but I am an Atwood. I am an Atwood and the baby will be an Atwood. I am scared because I don't want to be my father. I want to be the opposite of him, but I might fail." He swallowed hard. "And the reality of the situation is that I can't tell Taylor because sometimes I think that the kid would have a better chance if I weren't around. I've seen my fair share of Atwoods as fathers and it's never been a pretty sight."_

"_You're not going to be your father. Hell, your father's not your father anymore." _

"_I know. I just don't want to be a disappointment. I don't want her to feel anything like I did growing up, not for a second. And I just worry I'm setting myself up for disaster." _

"_You're not." Kirsten assured him, squeezing his shoulder tenderly. _

"_How can you be so sure?" _

"_Because," Sandy began, patting his other arm. "We won't let you." _

"_You're going to be great." _

Great? _The word floated around his head. _Great?_ He wasn't sure he had any greatness in him._

* * *

So keep your head up, keep your love

Keep your head up, my love

Keep your head up, my love

Keep your head up, keep your love

* * *

**May 19, 2009**

**Paris, France**

When she died, the first thing I thought to do was get pregnant again.

It was silly. It was crazy, maybe a little prescription induced, but that's all I could think about for a while. I could get pregnant again and we could have another kid. I could be a mother again. I could feel alive again.

It's probably a good thing Ryan and I never had sex after she died, because I probably would have poked little holes in the condom and I'd already stopped taking my birth control. After I'd gotten pregnant our first time we'd always made sure to use double protection and I would have made sure both of them failed.

I am pretty persistent and I know if we had done it before I left, I'd be pregnant now. I'd be having another kid and I wouldn't have left and we'd be zombies. Zombies having a child we weren't prepared to love. Zombies in a relationship we weren't prepared to work on.

We'd be my parents and I'd probably just resent the kid. Resent it the way my mom resents me, because she does. Even when things are okay between us, I know she resents getting pregnant with me. Resents marrying my father. Resents not being able to be a more powerful and uninhibited ball-busting sports agent.

Just resents the course her life took altogether.

I never want that.

I want to be fulfilled again, but I want to do it right. I want to be ready. I want to take things one-step at a time.

I think of all the stupid mistakes I made after she died and I'm just reminded how wrong I've been. How losing someone can change your personality so much that you barely recognize yourself.

She died and I tried to become this new person. Tried to walk around Paris this fake, all high culture – no anime, no sci-fi. All Frasier Crane, no geek. Just tried to lie.

Tried to be the person Henri always thought I was; the type of person who attracts guys like Benjamin.

Just boring. Not me.

It's only with you that I've been honest. No one knows what happened. No one. I go out, you know? I go out for drinks every week with people from work. I get involved with all these little things, but I never tell anyone anything about myself. I create this new identity.

Taylor Townsend. Twenty-three. Favorite movie: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Favorite show: Frontline. Favorite Musician: Mozart. Favorite Opera: Madame Butterfly. Relationship Status: Single. Hometown: San Diego. Parents: Married. Ever Been Married: No. Children: None. Favorite Drink: Malbec. Alma Mater: la Sorbonne.

Because it's easier than:

Taylor Townsend. Twenty-one. Favorite movie: Singin in the Rain/Nosferatu/Grave of Fireflies. Favorite show: Battlestar Galactica. Favorite Musician: Nina Simone. Favorite Opera: None. Can't get into the opera. Find it boring. Relationship Status: In a relationship, with a dash of it's complicated. Hometown: Newport Beach. Parents: Divorced. Dad lives in San Diego with his new family, never ever calls me. Ever Been Married: Yes. Married Now: No. Divorced at eighteen. Children: One, now deceased. Favorite Drink: Gin and tonic. Alma Mater: None. Completed one year at the University of Berkeley.

It's easier than real life.

I wasn't even aware how much I'd been lying until Summer came. By the time I dropped her off at the airport, I felt like my nose must have grown a foot.

No more though. If I'm going to be here, if I am going to get better, I am going to stop pretending to be someone I'm not.

I am going to me. I am figure out who exactly that is and I'm going to be open and honest.

I am going to be the person worthy of seeing Ryan again.

I am going to be the person capable of finding the silver lining.

And I am going to start by going to the support group you suggested. I am going to start by telling a group of people about Aurelia and Ryan and my happiness, and my guilt and my depression instead of just you in this room, in your confidence.

For the first time in a long time, I am going to be open.

* * *

When we were young,

Oh oh, we did enough

When it got cold,

Ooh ooh, we bundled up

I can't be told,

Ah ah it can't be done

* * *

_The knock on the door took Ryan by surprise. He hadn't been expecting anyone. Sandy and Kirsten usually called before they stopped by; he and Taylor hadn't settled in enough for them to come by unannounced, and it wasn't like they knew anyone else. That is, unless the waitress at the café down the street counted. _

_As he headed toward the door, they knocked again. He looked at himself in the mirror. The least he could do was look presentable. _

_The last time he'd answered an unexpected knock at the door Veronica Townsend had been on the other side, but that had been in Newport. He prayed that she hadn't come to visit them in Berkeley. Veronica was the last thing he or Taylor needed right now. They had enough on their plate. _

_He played with his hair. Another knock. "I'm coming." He yelled then sighed. "I'm coming." He repeated in a mutter. _

_He couldn't help but smile as he pulled the door open. To his luck, it wasn't Veronica or any ghosts from his past after all. No one he didn't want to see had wormed their way out of the woodwork. "Hey." He fell into the doorframe. "I thought you weren't getting back until tomorrow. We were going to meet you at the airport." _

"_We caught an earlier flight, thus avoiding a seventeen hour layover at JFK." Summer greeted, pulling him into a hug. _

"_I don't know though. JFK would have been tame, better than the four hours we spent trying to change our flight in Rome." Seth added, hugging his brother and heading into the house. "Did you know the security officers at the airports in Italy walk around with AK-47s? It's pretty intense." _

_Ryan shook his head. "Only ever been to Mexico." He pulled the door closed behind them. _

"_So basically all your trips abroad have been traumatic?" Summer asked._

"_Basically." He nodded. _

"_You should really get out there man." Seth suggested. _

"_Been kind of busy." Ryan replied, pointing to the crib he'd been working to put together earlier in the day. _

"_Right. Right." Seth gave him the once over and raised an eyebrow. "Are you wearing an apron?" _

"_Yeah. I was cooking dinner. I haven't found a job yet and Taylor's kind of been bank rolling the operation, so I figured the least I could do was the cooking. Besides, the only thing Taylor knows how to make is Peach Torte, which is dessert and frankly, as great as it is, the only thing I can think about when she makes it is her ex-husband." Ryan shrugged. "So I cook." _

"_In an apron?" Summer slapped his arm. _

"_In an apron." Ryan nodded and raised his shoulder blades into a shrug again. "This is my life now." _

"_Well the place looks really nice." Summer smiled. "I wasn't sure what to expect when Taylor described it on the phone."_

"_Thanks. We've put a lot of work into it."_

"_I wish we would have been here to help." Summer replied sincerely. She looked around at the freshly painted walls, the solid oak table in the dining room, the overall coziness of the living room. The smell of Ryan's cooking wafted through the air. It all seemed so adult. When did that happen? When had Taylor and Ryan grown up? More importantly, when were she and Seth going to follow suit and begin to grasp the idea of what it meant to be adults? _

"_No. Taylor's very specific about what she wants. You probably would have lost your minds trying to keep up with her demands." _

"_Speaking of which, where is Taylor?" _

"_Oh. Right. She's upstairs, taking a nap." _

"_Should I go wake her up?" Summer let her smile expand. "I really want to tell her about our trip."_

_Ryan nervously ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah. Um. I'd really prefer it if you didn't do that."_

"_Oh." Summer's face fell. _

'_It's just, she hasn't been sleeping lately, she's been having some insomnia. Plus you know, the baby sleeps during the day when we're awake and then when we're ready to go to sleep, she won't stop moving. Just kicks and lodges body parts under Taylor's ribs. Which, from what I understand is normal, but is really starting to drive Taylor up the wall. And when she can't sleep, I can't really sleep and then she gets grumpy and takes it out on me. So we've been trying this thing where she naps before all the commotion starts and it's been great. Less hitting. Fewer references to how this is all my fault anyway. We're getting there, but I am still a little sleep deprived, so the longer she sleeps now the better it is for everyone." Ryan noticed the look on Summer's face. "Sorry." _

"_No. No." She shook her head. "It's just so weird. I mean you're having a kid." _

"_Less than two months." _

"_Two months?" Seth questioned. Ryan nodded. "Holy hell. That's soon." _

"_Yeah." Ryan sighed. "But it means we won't get to go to Scotland, England, France, Germany, or Italy anytime soon. So I look forward to living vicariously through you." Ryan smiled._

"_Well, stories we have. Lots and lots of stories." Seth put an arm around his girlfriend. _

"_And gifts. Boy do we have gifts!" Summer let herself smile again, "Your baby is going to be styling." _

"_I am sure she will." Ryan took a deep breath. "You want to stay for dinner?"_

"_Of course we want to stay. You think we came over here after a long day of traveling for a lightning catch up round?" Seth asked._

"'_Cause we didn't." Summer added. The two shook their heads. _

"_I am sure Taylor will wake up soon." _

"_Yeah. Well, will you finally give us a tour of the rest of the house when she does?" Summer asked. _

"_Only if your boyfriend helps me finish putting that together." He once again pointed to the crib in the corner._

_Seth shook his head. "Pfft. You don't need me. You're a lot better with your hands then I'll ever be." _

"_I know and it'd be really easy, but the directions are in French, so I need someone to bounce my ideas off of before I screw it all up." _

"_Honestly, I'd probably just say yes to whatever you thought of doing."_

"_I'm probably not going to screw up anyway. I know what I'm doing. I just need the affirmation." Ryan sighed. "Besides, I am sure Summer would love to see you work with your hands for once."_

"_Oh. She would." Summer affirmed. "I'll have to get the camera from the car." _

"_See?" _

"_Fine. When are we doing the physical labor?" _

"_Soon as I finish cooking."_

"_In the apron?" Summer slapped his arm again._

"_In the apron." Ryan shrugged with a smile._

* * *

It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all

The opposite of love's indifference

So pay attention now,

I'm standing on your porch screaming out

And I won't leave until you come downstairs

* * *

**May 20, 2009**

**Berkeley, California **

I keep thinking about the day she told me she was pregnant. It was her nineteenth birthday. I guess technically it was the day after her nineteenth birthday, but those days just blur together now.

She'd gotten accepted to Berkeley. She'd applied before we'd started dating, but the option was suddenly real. We could keep dating; we could go to school together. We could be the next Seth and Summer.

The next Seth and Summer? I was terrified.

I'd never been in a functional relationship before. Never. Being with Taylor was the closest thing I had ever had to a normal relationship and if you knew Taylor you'd know how crazy that sounds.

Anyway, she didn't know what to do about it, because she didn't want me to freak out. So she tried to get me tell her that I loved her. Tried and failed. Next night, she plowed me with liquor. She got drunk not me but sitting next to her after I carried her to bed I said it. I told her and she brought out the big guns: me, her, Berkeley.

I'd just put my life back together. Things had just gone back to normal and I kept thinking: How did I get myself into this? This we'll go to college and be together forever thing?

It had started as fun. That's what she said. Well actually she said, we could use each other's bodies like jungle gyms… and we did. We had.

Point is the way I felt about her took me by surprise.

I'd gotten her this birthday present that everyone told me was romantic. I'd bound some poems she translated but commitment had me paralyzed. In the end I gave her a dictionary and she ran out on the only birthday party she'd ever had.

I'd ruined the day. That was like me. That was my normal.

Later that night, I brought her her real present and we were going to lay all the cards out on the table. All the cards, except the baby card. We were happily oblivious.

Then the Earthquake happened. Then I almost bled to death. Then she fainted. Then we knew. She was pregnant. Kirsten had lost her birthday surprise, but we had gotten ours. The only difference was, I'd never wanted children. Kirsten had waited nineteen years for another kid. I am sure I filled the void a little bit, but she wanted another baby. She deserved another baby. But me? Us?

I'd been with Theresa the first few months of her pregnancy. She'd been into it, excited to be having a kid despite everything. Excited to have me and I wanted nothing to do with it. I felt lost and confused, like I'd gotten a taste of this bright future and it was unfairly taken from me.

And I loved Theresa. Not like I love Taylor. Not like I loved Marissa, but it was this solid, familiar love and I thought if I couldn't make myself be there for her, I couldn't make myself be there for anyone. Any kid. I thought children weren't in the cards for me. I'd accepted it really.

You know? I thought Frank and Dawn had done me in, disillusioned me to the idea. And so there she was, pregnant with my kid and I told her that I could think of much worse things happening and I could, but at the same time I couldn't.

Me with a baby? How did that even work?

But it happened and we went full speed ahead and I was able to pretend… or not pretend… I was able to get into it. For a while at least, I was happy. Unlike with Theresa, I was happy. Taylor made me happy. She made the prospect of a family exciting. I don't know how but she did. She just did.

All the preconceived notions of what it meant to have a pregnant girlfriend went out the window. She was beautiful. I hadn't understood what the whole "glow" thing meant until Taylor. I certainly hadn't seen it with Theresa, but Taylor glowed and we laughed and we made serious things fun.

It was blissful, like we'd been thrown together in this less than ideal situation and been forced to get to know each other, really get to know each other. In the span of six months we grew up five years.

Now when people ask me how long we've been together I want to say its been ages, but it hasn't. It's been two years. Two. That's it.

And that's weird, you know? To me it's crazy.

So I keep thinking about that day, because that's the day I went all in. That's the day I threw away every idea of what my future was going to be. That's the day I decided to stop deciding what I wanted and what I didn't want.

I mean that's not to say there wasn't a period in time where I went back to being the Ryan who was terrified at the very idea of a baby, because those last few weeks she was pregnant I was scarred shitless. I kept having these dreams about my father – repressed memories maybe, I don't know, but I woke seeing him in me and that terrified me. I couldn't be him, anyone but him.

But then she was born and I held her and I cried. She was beautiful. She was perfect, she was mine. She was mine and I was never, ever going to be like him. I knew it. I could feel it. And I wasn't.

I was a good dad; given time I would have been such a great dad. And I was wrong. I was wrong to think I didn't want kids. By the time Aurelia turned one I could see us having two more. I could see us taking our three children on a picnic in Ramset Park. It was so quintessential but I could just see it.

And it's hard for me to think about how wrong I was for so long, but I was. I was dead wrong.

Just like I was wrong to think for a second that I'd be like my father.

Just like I was wrong to wait so long to tell Taylor I loved her.

Just like I was wrong to give her a dictionary.

Just like I was wrong to not want her to go to Berkeley with me.

Just like I was wrong to fight with her about baby names.

Just like I was wrong to let her leave.

_Yeah._ I've been wrong a lot.

The one thing I'm not wrong about though? Taylor.

She's the one good thing. The one right thing. The only decision I'm sure I'm right about and for the next forty minutes, all I want us to do is figure out how I can get her to come back.

Can we do that?

Can we try?

* * *

I don't blame ya dear

For running like you did, all these years

I would do the same, you best believe

The highway signs say we're close,

But I don't read those things anymore

I never trusted my own eyes

* * *

He stared at the images for a moment. Let them pervade every inch of his mind. Paris in the springtime. God. It looked beautiful. So did she. He stared at her face longingly. How had he ever let her go?

He knew that he shouldn't have been looking at Summer's pictures. Knew she'd call him out any second and yet, he couldn't look away. Taylor looked so much better than she had when she'd left. She looked like she was actually eating. There was life in her eyes. Maybe the space had been good for her. _For them._

He wondered what she'd think if she could see him now. Did she miss him like he did her? He wished it was a photo and not just an image on a screen. He wanted to trace her face with his fingers, to get a better look at her eyes. For, as much as the rest of her demeanor lied, her eyes held the truth.

He could see the sadness. He could see the ache. She looked better than she had in March, the night before she'd left, but she was still reeling it all. They both were.

He remembered their last night together vividly. Remembered how she'd been at the kitchen table waiting for him when he came in at midnight. How she tapped her nails on the table so rhythmically that seeing her from the front door, bathed in moonlight, silently tapping, she looked almost deranged. That sparkle in her eye had left in January and seeing her like that, it was like something had taken over her shell.

He'd touched her shoulder lightly, acknowledging she was there, but not showing her any affection. If it had been December, he would have squeezed it tenderly and, at the very least, kissed her cheek.

She'd told him there was food in the microwave. He told her that he already ate.

He looked through the mail in a fog. He heard her mention something about getting a new job. He didn't hear any of the details. He wasn't sure if he'd missed them or if she hadn't gone over them at all. He just nodded and said, "That's great."

He could hear her sniffle, could see that she was on the verge of tears, but he didn't try to comfort her. Didn't acknowledge it. Barely acknowledged her. She was crying again, what else was new? She was always crying.

She asked him if she should take it. He shrugged and told her that was really up to her. He heard her mutter something about it not being around here, but he didn't ask her to repeat herself. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep, so he'd managed. "Do what you think is right."

"Can we talk about it? Please. Just sit down. And let's just talk about it."

He'd barely looked up from the letter he was reading, a bill from the hospital – Taylor's medical bill. He gave her the once over. She looked fine. Why was it so much if she'd barely been injured? Her voice continued on in the background, imploring him to listen, to have a discussion with her, but he drowned her out.

"Ryan?" She eventually asked, her sobs uncontrollable.

"Hmm." She just stared at him. He avoided her gaze. "Right." He dropped the sheet of paper on to the counter. "Tomorrow. Let's just talk about it tomorrow. I had a long day. I am tired, but tomorrow. We'll talk. Okay."

She turned to face the window and looked out it blankly. "Sure. Tomorrow." She murmured. He patted her shoulder again as he headed up the stairs. Her stomach turned inside out. She felt nauseous.

That night, the bed was colder than usual. Even after she'd died, they'd continued to spoon. He'd always drape an arm around her and pull her in tight. They'd fall asleep like this, slowly breaking apart until in the morning they were looking at the ceiling from their respective places in the bed.

They might not talk during the day, but at night they were together, even if for those fleeting moments. That last night though, she pulled away each time he tried to touch her. That last night, she pushed herself to the very corner of the bed so he couldn't reach her.

The next morning he'd gone off to school and that night, he came home to find her clothes missing from the closet. He came home to find her gone.

She was all that he had left and he'd taken advantage of their relationship, until one day she was gone.

He focused on a picture of her, curled up on the couch in what he could only imagine was her apartment. It was a candid shot. The sadness in her eyes was most palpable. He wished she were here now. He was ready to try now. He was ready to let her fall into him again, to cry in his shoulder again. Though he hoped they were done with the crying.

They'd cried too much for one lifetime.

* * *

When we were young,

Oh oh, we did enough

When it got cold,

Ooh ooh, we bundled up

I can't be told,

Ah ah it can't be done

* * *

_He looked at the paint chips laid out across the table. There had to be hundreds. He sighed. He'd always thought she was decisive. It was one of the things he loved about her, the fact that she always knew what she wanted and went after it. It was the reason they had gotten together in the first place. Those little sheets on the table though? They told him that he must have been mistaken. She'd brought home the entire store. _

_She looked at him hopefully. "Well?" _

"_Well?" He repeated._

"_What color?" _

"_I… um… there are just so many options." _

"_Yeah." She frowned. "I might have gone a little over board."_

_He arched an eyebrow. Now there was an understatement. "Might have?" _

"_Well, you couldn't come and I didn't want to get hung up on a color that you didn't like. So I started grabbing all these yellow chips and then I thought about it and realized you might not want yellow. You might want green. Or blue. Or fuchsia. I don't know. But you're going to have to look at those walls as much as I am going to have to look at those walls and so I had to get a little of everything. And then I kept grabbing and grabbing not really thinking about it and before you know it the little basket was full and I wanted to put some back, but which ones?" She exhaled sharply. "Long story short, we have options!" _

"_A lot of options." _

"_Options never hurt anyone." _

"_They might start." _

_She rolled her eyes. "Ryan…" _

"_I am fine with whatever you want." _

"_That's bull." _

"_No it is not." _

"_Yes it is! You always act like you don't have an opinion, but you do. You have one. I've heard it. Now voice it." _

"_I…" He shook his head. "What do you like?" _

_She looked over the choices tentatively, eventually reaching out her hand and pointing at a green halfway across the dining room table. "I think I like that one." _

"_That one?" _

"_Yeah. That one." _

"_The one that looks like mold?" _

"_What? No. It's like a mossy green. Mossy. Not moldy." _

"_I beg to differ." _

"_Oh. So Mr. I-Don't-Care, has an opinion after all?" _

"_You made me have an opinion." _

"_Yeah. Well… at least let me be the dissenting one. What do you like?"_

"_You're just going to say you don't like it to spite me." _

"_That's not true." She looked at him sternly. "I wouldn't do that." _

"_Fine." He squinted and scanned the various colors. "I like that one." He put a finger on a red. _

"_Really?" He watched as her face contorted. "It's like a tomato. I don't want our daughter growing up in a tomato."_

"_See?" _

"_What? I didn't veto it because it was your choice. I vetoed it because I don't like the color." _

"_Red?"_

"That_ red." _

_He glanced over at the table. "You said you wanted yellow?" _

_She shrugged. "I want gender neutral." _

"_But we know the sex." _

"_I know, but don't you get sick of the whole girls get pink, boys get blue thing? I don't want to feel beholden to stereotypes." _

"_So no pink?" _

"_Not unless you want…"_

"_No. No. We wouldn't want to be beholden." He said softly, moving all the pinks together and dropping them into the trash. "Fifty down, two hundred to go." He muttered._

_She slapped him playfully across the chest. "What now?" _

"_We agree on something." _

"_Easier said than done." _

"_Nah." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "I think we make a pretty good team." _

"_We have our moments." She murmured as she burrowed her head into his chest. _

"_I think blue is nice. Soothing." _

"_Hmm. A baby blue could work." He moved his hands up her hips and expanded his reach until his palms rested flat on the bulge in her abdomen. She took a deep breath in and held it, loving this moment – the smell of his aftershave, his touch. "Or a green." _

"_You and your green." He whispered into her hair._

"_What's wrong with green?" _

"_Nothing. It just wouldn't have been my first choice." _

"_But a nice sage. A nice jade." She pursed her lips. "Like that one." He tilted his head to see where she was pointing. "Look at it. It's soft but bold." He imagined the smile she surely had on her face. "I mean imagine, it's your first few months on Earth and you're seeing all the colors for the first time. You know? You're slowly getting acclimated to the world. You can't tell me that waking up to that color everyday wouldn't be stimulating. Stimulating and simultaneously comforting." _

_He laughed. _

"_What?" She asked defensively. _

"_Nothing." He pulled her taut against his chest. "That's the color you want?"_

"_I think so."_

"_Then that's the color." _

"_You're sure?" _

"_I am sure." He smirked. "I want our daughter to be stimulated." _

"_Are you making fun of me?"_

"_Only a little bit." _

_He kissed the top of her forehead. Her smile grew._

* * *

Keep your head up, keep your love

Keep your head up, my love

Keep your head up, my love

Keep your head up, keep your love

* * *

Summer walked into the room with a smile plastered on her face. She'd only been back a couple days but every time they'd been in a room together, she'd made sure to smile. He knew half the time the smiles were fake, but he appreciated the effort. "Hey." She greeted.

He looked up at her stoically. "What's this?" He asked pointing to her phone.

"What's what?"

He threw it to her, the images of Paris still loaded on it. "Now, I've never been to Seattle, but I always imagined it looking different than that. You know? Less sunny. Less French."

Her eyes went wide. She stood silent for a moment before managing defensively, "Why were you going through my pictures?"

"It's not like that." He sighed. "I thought it was mine. I was going to watch this video of Aurelia on the swings at Ramset Park. So I went to the gallery and instead of the picture of Taylor and Aurelia that's usually there, there was a picture of you, Taylor and the Eiffel Tower." He exhaled sharply. "The fucking Eiffel Tower."

Summer stood shell-shocked. Silence became her.

Walking in from the kitchen, Seth noticed the tension in the room. He could feel it. "What's going on?" He asked.

Ryan ignored him. "I can't… you went to Paris." He muttered in disbelief.

"Ryan." She inhaled sharply. "I had to see her. I just had to know she was okay. I missed her."

"Join the club." He seethed.

"Hold on a second. Paris? What are you talking about Paris?" Seth questioned, arching an eyebrow at his beloved.

"Well. See… Seth." She was at a loss for words. A first, Seth noted.

"When she told you she was going to Seattle. When she told _everyone_ she was going to Seattle, what she really meant was that she was going to Paris to see Taylor."

"You… what?!" Seth exclaimed. She shrugged innocently. "That explains the jetlag." He grumbled.

"I had to see her. I had to and it wasn't like we could get her to come here, so I did what I had to do."

"Like we could get her to come here?'" Seth mocked. "Jesus. She left. She isn't here because she chose not to be here. She's supposed to be here. She's supposed to be with her family, but no. She left us. She left Ryan. I love you Summer, but sometimes you have to think for the good of the group. And right now Taylor is Benedict Arnold. You shouldn't be encouraging her to keep her distance. You should be trying to get her to come home. You should make her regret ever leaving. I mean…"

"She didn't leave." Ryan managed softly.

"What?" Seth asked, the blood still rushing through his veins, his rant never getting its proper conclusion.

"She didn't leave. I pushed her away. It's not the same thing." He shook his head. "It's not and I get that now. She didn't leave."

"Could have fooled me."

"It's not like you were around. Look Seth, you're my brother and you're trying to protect me, but you weren't here. Don't act like you know what happened because you don't. You were off in your Providence bubble and I was here treating the woman I love like crap. I pushed her away. She didn't leave. It's not that simple. It's just not." He sighed.

Summer nodded. "Seth, I love you but sometimes you have to think about both sides of the story and right now, we're all losers. Right now there are no traitors. No one knows what to do in a situation like this and leaving? It's never an easy choice. It's never a one-sided thing. Believe me. If it were I wouldn't hate my mother for leaving. I'd be indifferent."

Ryan looked up at her hopefully. The question sat on the tip of his tongue for a minute as he tried to craft the best way to ask about her. He bit his lip and after squeezing the flesh hard for a minute managed, "How is she?"

"She's getting there."

"Good." He watched as she fell into the couch next to him, felt as she patted him on the shoulder. He relished the feeling of her soft skin on his. He missed a woman's touch. He turned to look her in the eye. He had to ask. He had to let the words out of his mouth, no matter the answer he had to ask. "Do you think she's coming home soon?"

He noticed the sweat start at her temples; saw the lump form in her throat. "I don't know."

His face fell. "At least you're honest."

"I am sorry." He heard her mumble.

"Don't be." He shook his head in disbelief. "I started it."

"Ryan. Stop it." Seth said sternly. "You didn't start anything. You know who started this? Harlan Smith when he blew through that red light. You didn't do anything and I can't listen to you act like did anymore. You say Taylor didn't leave, fine. I'll accept that, but you want things to be better when she comes back? You want things to be better even if she doesn't? The first step is to stop blaming yourself for the car accident and the way you both acted right after it. You can't keep wallowing. You just can't."

"He's right." Summer said, the pride beaming across her face. "I never thought I'd say that, but he's right."

Ryan didn't comment. He just nodded. Seth was right and though the words weren't new, for the first time he actually believed them – believed something good could come from a sunnier disposition.

* * *

_Song: Stubborn Love by The Lumineers _

I know that the days where O.C. fanfiction was big have come and gone, but if you're reading this, _please review_. I love reviews. And sure, at this point, I am largely writing this for myself, because I adore this story and want to see it finished – but hopefully someone out there is reading along.

So a wholehearted thanks to all who've reviewed the last few chapters – it means the world to me. I am almost done with the next chapter and will put it up shortly. And to any of you worrying that there will be no Ryan and Taylor interaction anytime soon, it's coming up shortly in a big way.

Happy New Year!


	11. Revelations

_Chapter Eleven: Revelations_

* * *

**May 25, 2009**

**Paris, France **

They offered me a promotion. No. Not offered. They gave me a promotion. Last week I'd been in a funk, a bigger one than normal mind you. I dreaded going to work. Summer left and I felt so alone. More lost than I had been before she arrived. And so, I forced a smile, got on the metro, and faked enthusiasm as I reread the same sentences over and over again, unable to comprehend anything.

Now, I am great at faking enthusiasm. I did it all through grade school. I did it all through high school. When it comes to pretending to be happy, I deserve a medal. The gold. But when my boss called me into his office, my heart sank. My hands started shaking. He was going to fire me. I could feel it in my bones. He'd seen through my façade, knew that that week I'd spent more time doing crossword puzzles than I had translating or even prepping to translate.

I sat in his office, nervously pulling on my blouse. Trying to look as presentable as possible, comparatively better outfitted, more mature and responsible than my older colleagues. If he was going to fire me, I was going to at least make him feel bad about it. Give it extra thought. You know: why am I firing her again?

But he didn't. He brought his boss in to shake my hand and told me how amazing my work had been. How I could translate like no one else they'd ever had on staff. How they wanted me to be their star short prose and poem translator. No need to come into the office. No need for me to come in and translate in meetings, to prove myself to writers and agents. No. They were going to vouch for me. Now, all you have to do is do what you do best. They'd said.

It went on like that for a while. Twenty minutes of them praising me and I held back tears with every new word they added, every embellishment. Until on the elevator leaving the office the saline started running. Until I was not holding anything back and let the tears fall wildly down my cheeks.

Tears of joy. I can't remember the last time that happened.

The second I got home I sunk into the couch and started laughing. Hysterical laughter, like I'd been keeping it inside for months. For years. The sunlight poured in from the window and I felt my heart beat hard beneath my chest. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive. I felt happy.

I didn't know that was possible. After she died, I didn't think I'd be happy again. But for the moment, I was. In that moment, I had nary a care in the world. Ten minutes of total unadulterated happiness before the pain started again.

That's progress right?

That's the right direction?

* * *

A year from now we'll all be gone

All our friends will move away

And they're going to better places

But our friends will be gone away

* * *

_Ryan stared at her abdomen. He'd pushed her shirt up to expose her flesh. Soft. Smooth. Stretched, yet miraculously stretch mark free. _

_He put his hand on the bulge and murmured to the baby inside. Taylor was far enough along now that sometimes when their daughter moved you could see it. Her belly would rise in a random spot and then fall. For a while, this seemed like it was straight out of a horror movie. Like eight months ago he'd gotten her pregnant and now they were in _Alien_. But now he welcomed it. Now it excited him. _

_He knew that getting her to respond to his voice, meant getting her to move, meant getting to watch her move, meant getting a reminder that this was really happening. That it wasn't a hypothetical scenario. That this was his life now, was _their _life now. _

_Taylor looked up from her book and chuckled at him. "What?" He asked defensively. _

"_You always whisper. You don't have to whisper. I am not judging you." _

"_I know." He sighed. "I just feel silly." _

"_Don't." _

_He ran his fingers along her soft skin. "She doesn't even have a name." He said softly._

"_I thought we agreed we'd just wait until she was born. That we'd just see what fit when we saw her." _

"_I know, but maybe then it'd feel less weird." _

_She shut her book and dropped it on the nightstand. "Fine." She sighed. "Let's do this."_

"_Yeah?" _

"_Yeah." She put a hand on her belly. _

_He moved his right hand to cover hers and leaning into her asked. "What's your name?" Like her abdomen was a ouija board and the spirits were going to call out to them with an answer, the perfect name. _

"_What about…" Taylor began, hoping a name would suddenly come to her mind and she'd be able to finish the sentence. She frowned. Nothing. _

"_Sarah?" Ryan suggested. _

"_Everyone is named Sarah. She shouldn't have a name that everyone has." _

"_Please don't tell me you want to name her like Apple or something, 'cause..." _

"_No. No." She shook her head. "Just not Sarah. Too common. Too boring." _

"_Gee." He mumbled, pretending his pride was hurt. _

"_Sorry." She sighed. "Margot?" _

"_Depends. Are you giving birth to a hundred year old? Because if so, by all means." _

"_Fine." She motioned for him to come up with something better. _

"_Jessica." _

"_I've had too many bad experiences with girls named Jessica." She thought for a minute. "Inès?" _

_He shook his head vigorously. "Emily?" _

"_Better. Not quite... Anouk?" _

"_Anouk? Do you want her to get picked on everyday?" He sighed, muttered Anouk under his breath and rolled his eyes at her. "Madeline?" _

_She smiled. "I like Madeline." He looked on hopefully, "But I don't love it. Chloe?" _

"_My last one night stand… only one night stand? Was with a Chloe. Can't. Lily?"_

"_No flowers. Constance?" _

"_Maya?" _

"_Astrid? _

"_Arielle?" _

"_Florence?" _

"_Camille?"_

"_Mara?" _

"_Marissa?" He spit out absent-mindedly._

"_Marissa?" She raised her eyebrows. _

"_I… yeah?" _

_She moved her hand from his. "You want to name our daughter after your ex-girlfriend?" _

"_Maybe…" _

"_What if we were having a boy and I wanted to name him Henri." _

"_That would never happen." _

"_That's why it's a hypothetical question." _

"_It's not the same thing Taylor." _

"_Why not?" _

"_Marissa's dead." _

"_And what if she wasn't?" _

"_That's not… she is." _

"_So what I am supposed to name my daughter Marissa and spend everyday thinking about how we would never have gotten together, how you'd never want to be with me, if she hadn't died?" _

"_You can't… you don't know that." _

"_Oh. I am pretty confident." She inhaled sharply. _

_This was going to be a long night._

* * *

Nothing is as it has been

And I miss your face like hell

* * *

**May 26, 2009**

**Berkeley, California **

Aurelia Jane Atwood. That was her full name. For a while, I thought it was going to be Townsend-Atwood. I could see us getting to the hospital and Taylor telling me that she wanted to hyphenate. I could see her little bracelet saying baby girl Townsend-Atwood.

Hell, for a while, I could see it just saying baby girl Townsend. Don't get me wrong I knew she was mine. The second Taylor told me I knew she was mine. The second I held her in my arms I could see myself in her. She has… she had my nose.

It was just hard for me to deal with the fact that she was going to be an Atwood. Not a Cohen. An Atwood, which is really not the most desirable thing to be. It opens you up to addiction, to bad tempers – just all sorts of drama. So, I knew she was mine, but I was hoping that Taylor wanted her to be a Townsend. Not that Taylor's family is much better, but Taylor is.

_Yeah. Taylor is._

I remember the nurse writing on her little clipboard. I remember her asking if we had picked out a name. I remember staring at Taylor as she held our little girl. I remember her eyes so focused on the pink bundle, so mesmerized. Neither of us spoke. We just shook our heads no. I remember the nurse saying, "Okay. We'll just keep her as baby girl Townsend for now."

She didn't expect any argument. She had started toward the door when Taylor managed, "Atwood."

The nurse seemed confused and when she turned back around, Taylor had raised her head so their eyes met. "Baby girl Atwood. Not Townsend. Atwood."

"Don't worry." The nurse told her nonchalantly. "It's not going on the birth certificate, just her hospital bracelet."

"I know." Taylor's eyes fell back on the baby. "But she's not a Townsend. She's an Atwood. If you print the bracelet like that, she'll start her life out as a Townsend and she's not."

I remember my heart stopped when she looked up at me. She looked at me dreamily. Like… I can't even describe it. No one had ever looked at me like that. No one. She looked up at me and said, " She's an Atwood."

Maybe she caught on. Maybe she was trying to convince me too, make me feel like everything was going to be all right, that there was nothing wrong with being an Atwood. No stigma. It was just a name. According to Taylor, a beautiful name.

I think the nurse thought she was crazy, but she obliged and from day one, hour one she was baby girl Atwood. It took another day for us to come up with a first name. That is, it took another day for Taylor to tell me what she wanted to name her. She knew it when she saw her. When they put her in her arms, she knew she wanted to name her Aurelia.

She just didn't want us to fight. See, the first fight we ever had. That is, the first _real_ fight we'd ever had was about baby names. She was eight months pregnant and it started out pleasant enough, civil enough, but eventually it turned ugly.

I made the mistake of suggesting we name her Marissa. To honor her, I guess, because objectively it's not my favorite name. Whatever. I wasn't thinking and then, Taylor took it really personally. Got really insecure about it. _Really insecure_ and we started fighting.

I think it was the principal of the thing. You know? I don't think I was arguing for the name Marissa. I think I was arguing with her over her fear of the name Marissa, over her visceral reaction to it. So when I knew she'd never be a Marissa, I suggested we give Marissa's middle name as her middle name.

I wish I hadn't.

I was being petty. Really. That's what it was. I was sick of her being jealous of my first love. I was sick of her worrying that I was only with her because I couldn't be with Marissa, because that wasn't it at all. Not remotely and I thought… I didn't think.

I just wanted to honor the dead and talk Taylor down from her craziness.

It didn't work and I don't know if I even really tried to talk her down. I just know we fought. We fought and fought. And less then twenty-four hours later we were parents, we were parents to a beautiful, nameless baby girl.

That is a baby girl with no first name, because Taylor had relented.

Marissa Jane Cooper gave rise to baby girl Jane Atwood. Gave rise to Aurelia Jane Atwood.

That decision though, it haunts me everyday.

Marissa's death was a tragedy. She was cursed, doomed from the day I met her. I get that now. If I hadn't been around, she would have overdosed in Tijuana, been shot by Oliver, done too much coke with Volchok. I don't know.

I just know that Aurelia's death was tragic too and sometimes I think that I doomed her; that I fought so hard over that stupid name just to curse her to the same fate – a messy car accident end.

I know its stupid. I know and I am not superstitious, and you know, maybe I am just trying to make this my fault, however I can, because I am used to things being my fault.

I just feel like I let her down somehow. Like I let both of them down.

* * *

And I guess it's just as well

But I miss your face like hell

* * *

_He stared at her in annoyance. "You have to stop this." _

"_Stop what?" Taylor uncrossed her arms. "Stop what, expressing my frustrations? Having an opinion about what we should name our daughter?" _

_They were standing in the middle of the living room. He wasn't sure the time anymore. He felt like they'd been at it for hours, but the sun was still up. It wasn't night yet. _

"_Because last I checked, I was allowed to have an opinion. I mean, I'm the one who has to carry her for nine months." She continued. _

"_Oh. Here we go again."_

"_What? It's true." _

"_You can't keep using biology to attack me! I get it, okay? I get it. You're pregnant. I got you pregnant. I knocked you up and now you have to deal with the physical realities of having the kid. I get that, but it's not like I have any control in it. It's biology. It's not my choice." _

"_Oh, please. You love it." _

"_What?" _

"_You love that it's me that has to get fat and be crazy. You love that you don't have to do anything but sit there and pretend to be happy that you're having a kid." _

"_I love it? You think I love this?" _

"_I think you're glad you don't have to do any of the work." _

"_Of course I am glad! Who wouldn't be glad?" _

_She gasped. _

"_Oh, please. You know if the tables were reversed and you didn't have to sacrifice your body you'd feel the same way."_

"_So you don't want this, is that what you're saying?"_

"_That's not even remotely what I am saying! Stop putting words in my mouth. I am saying that I am in awe of you. I am saying that right now you are my hero, but if we're being honest, then yeah. Yeah. I am glad that I don't have to do the heavy lifting. I always have to do the heavy lifting. I am glad for once in my life I don't have to deal with everything. That doesn't mean I respect you less. It means I respect you more. Jesus." He exhaled sharply. "And I am not pretending to be happy. I am happy. I mean, I was happy. Right now, not so much." _

"_Yeah. Well this is no walk in the park for me either." She huffed. _

"_You started it." _

"_I started it? You started it." _

"_I suggested a name. All I did was suggest a name. I managed to mutter three syllables and you lose your mind."_

"_Two names." He looked at her confused. "It was two names. First it was Marissa and then it was Jane." _

"_Oh right, my bad. That's totally a reason for us _to start screaming_ at each other." _

"_It's her name." _

"_Right. Name. It's a name. You keep acting like I want to go off and raise her with a corpse, not that I want to name her after someone who was important in my life and raise her with you. It's just a fucking name. It's just a way to remember her." _

"_And what? I am just supposed to roll over and deal with that? 'Cause you're the man and you want to name her after your dearly departed ex, I am supposed to be fine with it?"_

"_You're not supposed to be this upset over a suggestion." _

"_Your mom wanted to name you Bryce." _

"_What?" _

"_Your mom wanted to name you Bryce. She had this name all picked out and then your dad started calling you Ryan in utero and he just assumed that's what you'd be called when you were born and here we are nineteen years later and you're Ryan. She had no input." _

"_First off, I am glad my name isn't Bryce. That's a horrible name. Second, you have input!" _

"_Last I checked you were pretty set on Jane." _

"_As a middle name. A middle name! You don't go around calling Seth Ezekiel, do you? No, because it's a middle name." _

"_It was her middle name." _

"_Exactly, she's dead and I want her to live on. I want her to live on somewhere, somehow, so it's a little token. It's nothing." _

"_She was your first love. It's not 'nothing'." _

"_What do I have to do to get this through to you. You want her to have two middle names? Want one to be after your first love? Fine. Who was it Henri? Henrietta. Boom. Done. Hess? Hester. What do you want?" _

"_That doesn't work." _

"_It doesn't work. Why doesn't it work? Hmm? Fair is fair, right? My first love and your first love together on the birth certificate. So what if mine is in memoriam and yours just ends a fight. Doesn't matter. Fair is fair." _

"_Your name is already going to be on the birth certificate." Her heart beat heavy in her chest. "It doesn't work because you're my first love and your name is already going to be there." _

"_Oh." He sighed. "Still. It's a middle name." _

"_Yeah. It's a middle name until we break up. And then what? Then it's a constant reminder of the fact that you left me and every time I say her name I get to be reminded of the girl I couldn't live up to. And that's totally going to make the long nights bearable." _

"_What?" He looked her square in the eye. "Taylor. I am not going to leave you." _

_She shook her head. "It's easy to say that now." _

"_You're eight months pregnant. How is it easy to say that now?" _

_The baby lodged a foot in her ribs. She winced. "Because this is the easy part." _

"_I am with you because I love you and I want to be with you. What nine months from now, I am going to change my mind because you're not pregnant anymore?" _

"_Nine months. Nine years…" _

"_I am not going anywhere. You can't keep thinking I am going to leave you. This will not work if you think I am going to leave you. It won't. And I am not. I am not going anywhere. If we break up it will be mutual. I am not just going to walk out one day." _

"_You don't know that." _

"_You're right. I don't, but I am about ninety-nine percent sure that you don't ever have to worry about me leaving you." _

"_You don't…" _

"_Taylor. Stop. I am not going anywhere." _

"_My dad left. Your dad left. You can't…" _

_She hit a nerve. "My dad went to jail." _

"_I know." She bit her lip. _

"_My dad beat us. He beat us and he went to jail for armed robbery. He comes out and says he's this changed man. Fine. But the only reason I am talking to him is because of you." He shook his head. "I am not my father!" _

"_Ryan…" She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. _

"_I am not my father." He repeated, voice shaking. _

"_I know." She said softly. _

"_I am not going to be my father." He said, as if reassuring himself._

"_I know." Her vast vocabulary had disintegrated. Those were the only two words left. _

"_No. I don't think you do. I am not my father. I am not your father. Just like you're not your mother and if you don't see that then I can't be here right now." He headed toward the door, stopping to put on his shoes. _

"_Where are you going?" _

"_I don't know." He tied the laces. "But I can't be here right now. I need air." _

"_Ryan…" her voice was soft, scared. _

"_Don't." He opened the door. Not turning to look at her, he repeated. "I just need air." _

_As the door slammed shut, she started to cry. _

_What had just happened?_

* * *

Been talking bout the way things change

And my family lives in a different state

* * *

He'd never been drunk before. Sure, he'd been out drinking. Sure, he'd probably had more than was wise a time or two, but he had a high tolerance. He was an Atwood. Until today he wasn't even sure he could get drunk. Two years ago when Taylor had tried to get him intoxicated, when she'd invented that game where they had to drink every time she said the word drink – and she'd said it a lot – he'd remained stone cold sober. He had begun to think himself impervious to the stuff, either because his tolerance was so high or because he was always so cautious, always so scared of letting the drug control him like it had his parents that he cut himself off, monitored himself discreetly.

Not today.

They'd lied to him. He'd been home for over a month and they hadn't told him. He understood their rationale, but Jesus! They were family. All that time he spent wallowing in his misery and they acted like they understood, while inside they were beaming.

He downed another shot of Jameson. He still didn't understand what his mom had seen in the stuff, but the burn felt good, like he was numbing his insides. That's all he wanted. He missed being numb.

He had packed up his things in a flash, gotten in his car and sat at the stop sign on the corner for twenty minutes, hazards on, unsure of where to go. Where was there to go? He was still paying rent on the house, but he couldn't bear to go there. He couldn't stand the thought of being alone there.

Eventually, he just started driving into the night. Unsure of where he was going or how far he'd go and somewhere along the road he found Joe's, an establishment that looked like it was out of his old neighborhood. A little bit of Chino on the outskirts of Berkeley.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it. They must have realized he was gone and that he'd taken his stuff with them.

He asked the bartender for another shot. It was in front of him in a matter of seconds. He stared it down. His body felt heavy. His head ached. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about, what solace Marissa had found in alcohol.

He held the tiny glass in his hand and smelled the fermented liquid inside. This was going to be his last shot and he was going to savor it. He was going to cherish the burn. Then he'd hop in a cab and have the taxi driver take him to whatever hotel, probably motel, was closest.

His phone vibrated again. The next time it did that he was going to turn it all the way off.

He wondered when they were going to tell him. If they were going to tell him. Were they going to wait like Taylor had, until it was so obvious that he'd just know?

Were they going to play him for a fool? If he hadn't found that translucent photo in the floor of the hall closet, so obviously dropped by accident, and that appointment reminder card right there with it, when would they had told him? Did Seth know?

Did Summer? First she'd snuck off to France to see Taylor without telling him and now this?

He wanted to punch his fist through a wall. He wanted to break something, to get the shit beat out of him in a cage fight. He wanted a release.

No. That was a lie. That was what his old self wanted. All he wanted now was Taylor. He wanted to look her in the eye. He wanted to take her by the hand. He wanted to push his lips onto hers. He wanted to feel her heart beat against his. He wanted to lose himself in her naked flesh. He wanted her.

He let the caramel colored liquid begin its descent down his throat. When all of it was gone, he dropped some money on the counter and stood up slowly, finding his balance.

He walked toward the door, each step a new adventure.

He stood in the cool crisp air for several minutes. Staring at the moon and the stars in the sky. Feeling his heart pound heavy in his chest.

He was going to be a brother. Sandy and Kirsten were getting their miracle two years later than anticipated, but it was coming. _She was coming_.

His heart ached.

He was going to be a big brother and yet, he felt lonelier than he'd ever thought possible.

* * *

And if you don't know what to make of this

Then we will not relate

So if you don't know what to make of this

Then we will not relate

* * *

_She had tried to make herself look presentable. She had showered, had combed her hair and brushed her teeth, had washed her face and put on a fresh pair of clothes. _

_She'd tried to make herself look like the Taylor with the over abundance of confidence and enthusiasm, who always made lemons into lemonade. She'd been successful too, until she got stuck in traffic on Shattuck and started crying. _

_She'd looked at herself in the mirror before getting out of the car. Her eyes were red and puffy. She'd tried to do something about it, tried to clean up her face again, but she'd given up. _

_So what if she looked like hell? Of course she looked like hell. She was eight months pregnant. She was tired. She was hormonal. She didn't feel as sharp as she used to be. She had to buy bigger shoes her feet were so swollen and on top of that, she couldn't just walk anymore. No, now she waddled. Then there was her memory, which somewhere down the line had gone to hell; she put the milk in the cupboard with the cereal every time she made herself a bowl. She just wasn't herself anymore and she had another month before she'd get to see the old Taylor Townsend again._

_She stood on the porch, hand pressed firmly on her belly. The baby was kicking up a storm. She sighed. Of course she couldn't get one minute to herself. Couldn't go a second without a reminder that she was not alone. Would never be alone again. _

_She rang the doorbell and waited for an answer. _

_She took a deep breath in and tried to stay calm. She wasn't sure that was possible. What with her boyfriend out "clearing his mind", phone turned off, with no interest in talking to her. _

_She was sure she looked pathetic. _

_When the door started to open, she did her best to put on her happy face. She felt her teeth clench together in a tight smile. _

"_Hey Taylor." Seth greeted, hand still gripping the doorknob. _

"_Seth! Good to see you." _

"_Yeah. You too." He paused; ever since she'd gotten pregnant he hadn't been sure how to talk to her. He'd almost lost Ryan to Theresa and every time he looked at her he feared that that would happen again; that it'd happen for real this time. " Are you looking for Summer?" He asked, scratching his head. "'Cause she's not…"_

"_No. No. I was looking for Ryan actually. Is he … he hasn't swung by at all has he?" _

"_Nope." _

"_Oh. He hasn't. Oh." She felt the tears start to well in her eyes. "Of course not." She felt as they started to slide down her cheeks. "And Summer's not…" _

"_No. She went to an art show for G.E.O.R.G.E." He watched her in shock. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her lose her cool before. Certainly, not like this. "Taylor, are you okay?" She obviously wasn't. _

"_Yeah. Yeah." She shook her head. "It is just Ryan and I had this fight. This big stupid fight and somewhere along the line I managed to compare him to his father. It was totally accidental. Totally, just… he just took it the wrong way and he got sick of putting up with me. So he left. He left and I don't know where he went and his phone is off and I'm just freaking out. And I came here because I thought he might be here, because he's your brother and you're his best friend and if he were going to talk to anyone he would talk to you. But he's obviously not here and so, I can't talk to him and apologize and we can't make up and I can't relax. Plus, if he's not here, I have no idea where he could be and it has been a couple hours and he could be in ditch somewhere for all I know." She caught her breath. "But you know. It's fine. Just fine." The tears fell hard and fast down her cheeks. "I'm fine." _

"_No. You're not." _

"_No. I am not." _

"_Do you want to come in? I was going to watch Akira." _

"_Yeah?" He nodded. "I love Akira." _

"_What's there not to love?" He put a hand on her shoulder as she started inside. _

_When he shut the door behind them, she pulled him into the hug and held him up to her for far longer than was comfortable for either of them. "Thanks." She murmured when she eventually let him go. _

"_What for?" _

"_For keeping me company." _

"_I think it's the other way around." _

"_Then thanks for letting me keep you company," she corrected, resting a hand on her protruding stomach. _

_He noticed her flinch, but shrugged it off. "It's nothing." He mumbled, but judging from her tear soaked cheeks he was in for a long evening._

_He grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet in the hall bathroom and took two in anticipation._

* * *

Rivers and roads

Rivers and roads

Rivers 'til I reach you

* * *

She stared at the luggage in her closet. Ever since she gotten her promotion, it'd been unavoidable. Every time she'd grabbed something off a hanger, her eyes fell to it. She wasn't going into the office anymore and for the last week she'd spent her days going to museums and outdoor markets. She wandered, listening to the rhythm of the streets. It was enchanting. She was falling in love again – with the sights and the smells, even the damn Eiffel Tower.

She could see it if she closed her eyes.

She could see herself growing old here. She could see herself with an apartment overlooking a little patch of green in the city of light. Berkeley was becoming a distant memory.

Paris was filling her heart.

She wondered what that meant. Had she lied to him? Was she ever going to go back?

Sure, she missed him. Sure, she missed him so much that it ached, but she couldn't see them growing old together in Berkeley anymore.

She couldn't see much of anything that didn't involve France.

Maybe, it was just another coping mechanism.

Maybe, it was because for the first time in months, she was feeling all right. For the first time in months she had found some modicum of happiness. For the first time in months she wasn't wallowing.

Maybe, she was too scared to imagine Berkeley because everything that happened had happened there and if she went back she might start wallowing again.

Perhaps, she was worried that this wasn't her getting better but her riding a high, a high that made Paris magical, made France about new beginnings, but which wouldn't extend to Berkeley.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her suitcases, bathed in moonlight coming in from the window. She put a hand to her heart.

She couldn't sleep.

Her head fell into the headboard.

What was she going to do?

Her eyes fell shut as she took in a deep breath. When they opened, she noticed the blinking green light on her phone. She had a new message.

She dialed her voicemail and her heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice. She tried to ignore the slight slur of his words.

"Why don't you answer your phone? You never – you never answer your phone when I call, Never. Baby, I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. Taylor. I am not good at this. No good, but I need you. You have to come home, okay? You just have to come home. No more excuses. Just come. Please come. I love you. I need you."

He needed her? She sighed. _He needed her?_

Her eyes fell to the luggage in her closet. The tears fell steady down her cheeks.

Eyes still glued to her suitcases, she let the message replay.

* * *

_Song: River and Roads by The Head and the Heart_

Thanks for all the reviews last chapter. Keep 'em coming.


	12. Mirage

_Chapter Twelve: Mirage_

* * *

Where the doors are moaning all day long,

Where the stairs are leaning dusk 'till dawn

* * *

It had to be a mirage, a sign that he'd been drinking too much. He looked up to the sky as if telling God, "I get your message loud and clear."

He pinched himself. He had to be hallucinating. The liquor had caused dehydration. Dehydration had caused him to see her sitting there, lilies in hand.

She couldn't be real, because of all the coincidences in all the worlds, for her to be there at that cemetery at the exact same time as him? That was too much. That was crazy. That was luck that they didn't have anymore.

Yet, the closer he got to her, the more corporeal she became. She didn't vanish. A sip of water didn't take her away. She was there. She was running her hand over that epithet; it trembled against the stone.

He heard her voice. Listened as she said, "Hey baby." The words came out soft and pained. He closed his eyes. It was her voice. It was her voice on January 20th saying "No" over and over again. It was her voice on February 24th saying, "I don't want a birthday. I don't want a birthday ever again. I don't really feel alive and if I am not alive what's the point in aging? I just want to be dead." It was her voice every time he read the letter she'd left the day she went to France.

He stared at the back of her head. The closer he got to her the more he could smell the musk of her perfume. The easier he could she her perfectly manicured nails. The more unmistakable her voice became.

_It was her_. She was there. She was real.

He wondered when she got back into town. Had she gone to the house yet? Had she gone home and noticed his absence?

The last two nights he'd stayed at a motel in Vallejo. He'd spent Saturday morning counting the popcorn on the ceiling, the afternoon ignoring his phone and flipping through the television channels absent mindedly, and the evening at Joe's with his Jameson, fighting back every urge to drunk dial _her_.

He'd woken up to Sunday. He'd woken up to a pounding in his head. He'd woken up to have to search his bag for aspirin, to find Aurelia's picture instead.

Staring at her face, he knew where he needed to be. She wouldn't have deserved to see him like this. Before she was born, he promised himself he wouldn't be his father, but looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror that's all he'd seen.

He couldn't keep wallowing. He'd finally started doing well, he couldn't go that many steps backward that fast. No. He'd gotten coffee at the diner on the corner, had chased it down with bacon and eggs.

He had two missions to accomplish. He had to sober up and he had to see her, at least, that marker of her existence.

If he'd been closer he would have ran. He would have ran and felt that pain in his stomach. He would have reminded himself what alcohol did to the body – reminded himself that the burn had consequences. The ones he could remember and the ones he could feel.

Fortunately, twenty miles was far even for him. Fortunately, he'd driven instead and caught her. She couldn't back away now. This was fate. She was back. He was here. They were together for the first time in three months.

He wondered if she would have called. Had she gone to their home and noticed his absence, had she not known where to find him, would she have called? Would she have said, "I am in Berkeley? Where are you?" Would she have sat around the house waiting for him to come around? Would the lack of his presence serve as a sign that she never should have come back? Would she have left for good this time?

He looked at his phone. He'd received a number of calls the last few days, but none of them had been from her. She hadn't told him she was coming home, hadn't tried to find him. Did she even want to see him at all?

He listened intently to her voice. Heard her say, "You were so cute and funny. So exuberant. I like to think you got that from me, you certainly didn't get it from daddy, but we were wearing him down. Yeah. We were wearing him down one step at a time."

She was thinking of him at least. He wasn't just a painful memory.

He was in her thoughts.

He resisted the urge to take her into his arms. She needed this. She needed this alone time with her. She needed this moment to herself.

He wasn't going to let her be alone again.

He was never going to let her out of his sight.

He wasn't going to make it easy for her to run off this time.

He watched her fingers glide from letter to letter. God. He missed her. He missed her so much and here she was, coming back to him when he needed her most.

He looked back up to the sky, the heavens, whatever was up there. For the first time in a long time, the universe was doing something right.

* * *

Where the windows are breathing in the light,

Where the rooms are a collection of our lives

* * *

_Seth looked at her anxiously. "Are you okay, Taylor?"_

_She turned to face him, the annoyance shining across her face. She thought about sitting up for a minute, but decided it wasn't worth the hassle. Seth eyed her large bump. All the excess weight was in her stomach and breasts, the rest of her was a skinny as ever. She looked like the boa constrictor that swallowed the elephant. "Why do keep asking me that?"_

"_You just look … I don't know how to describe it, weary?" _

"_Weary?" She winced at a feeling in her stomach. "Well, I am eight months pregnant." She went back to staring at the television screen. "Occupational hazard." _

"_I know." Seth sighed, "But you look like you're in pain." _

"_I'm fine." Taylor shook her head. "You know, you're supposed to be taking my mind off of everything. You're supposed to be taking my mind off the fact my boyfriend left to go 'get air'. You're supposed to be taking my mind off of the fact that his phone is off. We're supposed to be watching this anime and pretending that it's a year ago and things are normal. Can't we just pretend?" _

_Seth nodded and turned back to the TV. Six minutes later she winced again, he saw her from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure that you're okay?" He was just as anxious as before. _

_She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine." She breathed through the pain. "It's just Braxton Hicks contractions." _

"_You're sure?" _

"_Yeah." The pain lingered. "Pretty sure." _

_He stared at her for a minute. She wanted to punch him in the face. She spied the expression on his face. Great. She thought. He was making her nervous too. "I need to go to the bathroom." She put out her hand. "Can you help me up?"_

_He obliged. _

_He paused the movie and sat straight up, nervous in the silence. He tapped his fingers on the coffee table. She was fine. She had to be fine. The world wouldn't let something happen when Ryan was off God knows where. No. He didn't have to worry about that. He had more luck than that. He took a deep breath in, tried to slow his pounding heart. _

_Ten minutes had passed when he heard her gasp. At least, he wanted to say it was a gasp. He couldn't be sure. He'd never heard anyone gasp that loud before. _

_He jumped to his feet and followed her voice to the kitchen. She was staring down at her feet. "Taylor?" He asked. Her eyes didn't move from the tile. "Taylor?" _

"_Seth." She said trying to mask the fear in her voice. _

"_Taylor, what's going on?" He spoke to her like a child. Normally, she would have given him the evil eye and gone off on a rant, but she couldn't react – couldn't process anything. "Why is the floor wet?" _

"_My water broke?" He could tell it was a statement in the form of a question._

"_What?"_

"_My water broke." She took a deep breath in. "Just popped all over the kitchen floor. Oh my God. I'm – Oh my God."_

"_Your water broke?" She nodded. "What does that mean?" _

"_It means - and cherish this because I'm never going to say it again - it means I was wrong and you were right. It means these aren't Braxton Hicks contractions, it means, I'm having a baby. A baby." A wave of pain came over her. She doubled over slightly. Her hand fell to her belly. Mid-screech she managed, "A baby." _

"_A baby?" _

"_A baby." She breathed._

"_Now?" _

"_Seems that way."_

"_But Ryan's not even…"_

"_Let's not talk about him right now." _

"_What do we do?" _

"_I call the doctor. You drive me to the hospital." _

"_The hospital?" _

"_Yeah." She straightened up. "Seth, I need you to look at me, okay?" _

_He locked eyes with her. _

"_The baby is coming. She's coming now and I need you to drive me to the hospital."_

"_I just…." _

"_Stop with the questions and the buts and the justs. I am freaking out right now. I am freaking out and I am trying not to. I am trying to be calm and put together and it's not working! Unfortunately for you there's only room for one basket case right now. And I think I deserve that right. I think I get to be the neurotic mess today. I have to push a baby out of my vagina today. What do you have to do?"_

"_Not that." _

"_Exactly. Not that, but you do have to drive me to the hospital. You have to stay with me. You have to be my wingman. You have to..." He watched as she started to cry. "Oh God." She fell into the kitchen wall. "I tried calling Ryan. I tried and his phone is still off. I can't do this without him." She paused. "I can't do this at all." _

_Seth wasn't sure what to say. "It's okay." He managed. "It's going to be okay. We'll just get you to the hospital and everything will be okay." _

"_Right. Right." She nodded. "I mean so what if its five weeks early. So what if its five weeks early and your parents are out of town. So what if we can't get in touch with Ryan. I mean, I don't even have a car seat, but everything's fine." The tears started coming down in waves. "Fine. Fine. Fine."_

_Seth grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter and put an arm around her for support. "Shh." He guided her to the driveway. "I'll call my parents from the car. You'll leave Ryan a message. I'll take you to the hospital and then I'll go pick Summer up from that 'art show' of hers." _

_Taylor's eyes went wide. "You're going to leave me alone? You can't leave me there alone. You have to stay. You have to. Promise me you'll stay." She seethed. _

"_I promise." Seth replied, scared by the tone in her voice. "I just thought you'd want her there." _

"_She can take a cab!" _

"_Right." Seth had forgotten that such things existed. "She'll call a cab and she'll meet us there. Everything will be all right." He helped her into the passenger seat. "Just relax." _

_She nodded, ignoring the fact that he was saying to calm himself and not her._

* * *

This is a place where I don't feel alone

This is a place that I call my home

* * *

She traced the letters with her fingers. The stone cool beneath the tips. She couldn't do this before. Couldn't bear the thought of it.

It'd been so long that she barely remembered where the gravestone was. During the funeral, she felt like they had walked for miles before they reached it. The forty-feet from the parking lot had taken an eternity. Everything had been foggy then. The tears in her eyes washed out every color, drowned out every word. Kirsten had held her up, if she hadn't she would have collapsed, would have doubled over in pain, would have thrown herself on the coffin – fallen with it six feet under. Not that that would have been possible. No, the hole hadn't been big enough for that. It wasn't just the coffin that had been miniature it was everything. They had to make the sting that much worse.

Her appendages slid from character to character, from word to word.

Aurelia Jane Atwood. Beloved Daughter. August 6, 2007 – January 20, 2009.

Her heart sank in her chest.

She'd been trying not to cry, but who had she been kidding? That wasn't going to happen. Not here. Not today. Today she was going to ball.

"Hey baby." She said softly, fingers lingering on the 'D' in daughter.

Daughter. Her daughter. Her beautiful little girl.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I bet your daddy comes. I bet he's here all the time. I'm glad. I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if there's a heaven or spirits… I don't know if this is just it. If this is the end, but I don't think it is. I know it's not rationale but I think, I hope, you can hear me. I just… I miss you. I miss you so much. You're all I can think about. You're everything and I just need you to know that I love you. Mommy loves you so much."

She wiped some of the tears from her eyes. She'd tried to freshen up at the airport, had done her normal routine in the crowded public bathroom. Several people had looked at her like she was crazy. She didn't care. She couldn't pay her respects looking like she'd taken the afternoon flight from Paris, spent the night in JFK, and caught the first flight to SFO. No. She couldn't be haggard. She had to show an effort, had to try and look healthy and happy. Had to be the woman her daughter would have remembered.

"Daddy got you flowers I see. They're beautiful."

She looked at the black gunk on her index finger. She'd made the mistake of putting on eyeliner. Of course she'd do something like that. She probably looked like a train wreck right about now.

"I brought you lilies. I don't know what your favorite flower would have been, but I remember the day we took you to the botanical garden. Your dad had to catch you because you kept running toward the lily pond. He'd pick you up and say no and you'd repeat after him. No. Like you were listening, but the second he let you down you were off again. You were so ornery that day, but we couldn't be mad because you were so adorable. You were always so adorable. Like the days I'd lay you down for your nap in our bed and you'd wake up and growl at me. Just growl, like you were a tiger or a lion. You were so cute and funny. So exuberant. I like to think you got that from me, you certainly didn't get it from daddy, but we were wearing him down. _Yeah_. We were wearing him down one step at a time.

"It certainly helped that your first word was dada. God. He held that over me for the longest time. You were right about eleven months old and we were at your grandparents' house for the July 4th holiday. I had just gotten you to stop crying and I was rocking you in my arms, singing Alouette like I always did. You were nice and calm and we were through the first verse when Seth decided to test one of the fireworks. It worked but the noise scared you and you started crying again, crying and squirming in my arms like you were trying to get out. Your dad was standing a few feet away giving Seth the evil eye, because we were going to try to lay you down for bed. He almost missed it. You were squirming and squirming and suddenly you just yelled out dada. You should have seen the smile on his face. You should have seen it, so big, so unrestrained, just pure, unadulterated happiness. You, of course, weren't happy you were screaming, but you kept crying dada until he picked you up and I was a little hurt that you said it before mama, but I got over it. Ryan was just so happy and now I am glad you said it first because when I get sad I get think about that smile he had on his face. It was the biggest I'd ever seen him smile. You just made us so happy.

"Baby. I just need to say that I am sorry. I am so sorry. I know it wasn't my fault. I know, but if I had waited at the light a little longer I could have prevented it. I could have saved you. I need you know that I would have done anything for the accident not to happen. Would still do anything, but alas, I went to therapy and through the whole bargaining stage, but no one wants to bargain with me. No one wants to make me a deal."

She laid her palm flat on the tombstone.

"Ma belle fille Aurelia. My beautiful little girl. I want you to know that I would have died for you. I would have. Your daddy would have taken such great care of you. You were his world and he was just such an amazing dad. He was the best. My dad probably never says my name and my mom pretends I don't exist more often than not, but we weren't like them. You were our world. So many people out there end up with less than ideal parents that I need you to know that that you were our everything. We love you. We love you so much it hurts. It kills us inside to know that you're not here anymore and if I could change that I would. I wouldn't hesitate. I need you. I need to know that you're all right. I need to know that everything is all right. I love you so much. So much and I just need you to know that I would have died for you. I would have done anything to protect you."

Her vocabulary broke apart. The words left her. It all just turned into blubbering. She let any composure she had left disappear.

It took a minute before she realized he was touching her. She didn't hear him come up behind her. She thought she was imagining his embrace; she'd gotten good at that – had gotten good at comforting herself. Paris had been lonely.

It was his smell that had tipped her off. The scent of his aftershave wafted through the air. She let her body fall hard into his. She didn't need to look back to know it was him. To know she was home.

"You did everything you could." He said softly. "You did your job, it was just her time. It wasn't yours."

He squeezed her palm. "How long were you standing there?"

"I heard it all." She burrowed her head into his chest. "I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to interrupt."

"You did the right thing."

"I take it that's your cab in the parking lot?"

He felt her nod. "I didn't know where to go. This was the first place I managed to say."

He stole her words. "You did the right thing."

"I miss her so much." She said almost silently, anyone else would have missed it.

"Me too." He swallowed hard. Unsure whether he was asking or telling, he managed, "Let me take you home."

Near whisper, she told him, "Okay."

Neither of them made any attempt to move. They sat together silently. Her in his arms, they stared at the tombstone. They stared at the last thing they had left of her, found comfort in that small marker of her existence. The longer they sat, the tighter his grip on her became. The longer they sat, the closer he pulled her into his chest. In the parking lot the meter ran.

After a while, she felt like she had dissolved into him. For the first time in a long time, they were one.

* * *

_Song: That Home by The Cinematic Orchestra _

Review?


	13. Try

_Chapter Thirteen: Try_

* * *

The Atlantic was born today, and I'll tell you how

The clouds above opened up and let it out

I was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere

When the water filled every hole

And thousands upon thousands made an ocean

Making islands where no islands should go

* * *

_He pointed to his cup as the waitress walked by. She nodded in response and flashed him a smile. He wished he could do the same, but he was too worked up. He felt like a jackass. Sure, Taylor was overly insecure, but did that justify his response? He rubbed his temples and turned his phone back on as he waited for his coffee. It was a long drive back to Berkley. He wondered what he could do to apologize. Flowers, maybe? _

_He looked at the screen of his phone. Seventeen missed calls. His eyes went wide. Five messages. _

_He called his voicemail in a panic. Taylor's voice had urgency._

"_I've been thinking about it and I am an idiot. Her middle name doesn't matter. It doesn't. But really, Ryan? Really? So I am insecure, we knew that. You know that and I am pregnant, I think I am allowed to be a little irrational." She paused. "I cannot believe you turned off your phone. I mean are you kidding me? Not answering is one thing. Turning off the sound is one thing, but you turned it off completely. I may be insecure, but you're a child." She huffed. _

"_You're…" She stopped. He heard her breathing heavy. "You're… Fuck!" She yelped. _

_He heard Seth's voice in a panic. "Breathe. Just breathe." _

"_Forget the other stuff I was saying." She said, her voice struggling to return to normal. "Forget it. Ryan? The real reason I called is because my water broke. I am in labor and I need you. I need you now. I need you five minutes ago. We're on our way to Alta Bates. Hurry. Please." Her voice got small. "I really need you." _

_Ryan stared into his coffee cup. "Ryan. It's Seth." Message two began. "I don't know where the hell you are, but you need to get here fast. I can't do this. I am not you. I can't be you. Hurry up!" _

_That call was from 8:30. He looked at his watch it was 9:08. He didn't bother listening to the rest of them. He dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table and rushed toward his car. _

_He dialed Seth's number as he buckled his seatbelt. Seth answered on the first ring. "Where the hell are you?" He asked. _

_Ryan sighed. "Look, don't panic…" _

"_Don't panic? Taylor won't let me leave and Summer isn't answering her phone. My parents are in Portland. If you don't get here soon Taylor is going to make me go into the delivery room with her. Ryan, I can't do that. I didn't get her pregnant, I shouldn't have to see that." _

"_I know." He agreed. _

"_I had to step out into the hall. She started throwing ice chips at me. I mean…"_

_Ryan cut him off. "Look Seth, I need you not to panic, but I am in Fresno." _

"_You're where?" _

"_I am in Fresno." Ryan pulled onto the highway. "But I am on my way."_

"_Why the hell are you in Fresno?"_

"_I just started driving." _

"_You just drove to Fresno? Did you forget that, I don't know, Taylor's pregnant?" _

"_It's August 4th. She's not due until September 10th, I didn't know she was going to go into labor." _

"_Well for future reference, when you get into a fight with an eight months pregnant woman maybe you want to stick around because, I don't know, you might send her into labor!"_

"_You're saying this is my fault?"_

"_I am saying that you certainly didn't help the situation, but for whatever reason Taylor still wants you here and you need to be here." _

"_I am on my way." _

"_I understand, but what I am saying is speed. Fresno is what two hours away?" _

"_Three." Ryan murmured. _

"_Three?!" Ryan heard the thump as Seth fell into the wall behind him. "Three hours?"_

"_That's what I am saying." _

"_Well, I expect you here in two and a half." Seth sighed. "It's nine ten. I expect you here at eleven forty. You have to be here by eleven forty. Ryan, I am freaking out here." _

"_If I am being honest, I am far more concerned about Taylor." _

"_Well obviously Taylor, but I can't do this by myself. I didn't go to the Lamaze class. I didn't prepare for this and you know I love Taylor, but I never really thought of this kind of thing as being involved in our friendship." _

"_Just tell her to breathe. I will be there soon. Literally, as fast as humanly possible, but I will be a lot faster if I get off the phone." _

"_Right. Just fast. Like lightning. You're going to kill yourself if you miss this and I am going to kill myself if I have to go into that damn delivery room. Let's help each other out." _

"_I am hanging up now Seth."_

"_I don't care as long you are …" _

_The line went dead._

* * *

Most people were overjoyed; they took to their boats

I thought it less like a lake and more like a moat

The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your

Door have been silenced forevermore

And the distance is quite simply much to far for me to row;

It seems farther than ever before

* * *

They drove in silence.

Every once in a while she caught him move his lips to speak, she'd feel hers curl into a soft smile, welcoming his words, but they never came. He sat silent, a stone statue with hands at ten and two. His words were prisoners, the one thing he had any control over. He refused to use them lightly. She imagined that after everything that happened he was quieter than ever.

She stared at the houses. Everything looked exactly the same. They passed that house on Tacoma that still had its Christmas lights up. The construction still raged on on Cedar. She couldn't believe it. She'd been gone for more than two months and nothing had changed. Berkeley was still Berkeley. She was still her. He was still him.

As they waited for the green light on 2nd Street the blinker drove her mad. She ran her hands through her hair and turned to stare at him. He had a beard now. When she'd left it'd been stubble, now it was a full-fledged beard. If he kept it up, by December he could be Santa Claus. Hot, muscular Santa Claus, but Santa all the same. Seth would like that.

She'd spent the plane ride imagining his face; that chiseled jaw, those piercing blue eyes. She'd only caught a brief glimpse of them at the cemetery, but they had more life in them than the last time she'd seen him.

God, that last night. She hated thinking about that night. Hated the way she felt that night, the way he could make her feel. That night made her sick inside.

This day, though? It was turning out better than she expected.

* * *

I need you so much closer

I need you so much closer

I need you so much closer

I need you so much closer

* * *

The light refused to change. She visualized the blinker ticking. She wanted to reach over and turn it off. They were in the turn lane, what purpose did it serve? If they weren't going to talk then things needed to be silent. They needed to think about what this meant, what her coming home symbolized, this was their new beginning.

Staring up at the red, he muttered, "I can't believe you're here."

Her hand got away from her. It slipped over to his, cupped it on the gear shift. "You needed me."

"I always needed you."

"Maybe, but for a while you certainly didn't want me." She matched his eye line, squeezing his hand tightly when her eyes locked on the light. She hated red lights. Red lights were killers.

"Yeah." He gulped. "For a while I was scared of you. For a while… I don't know."

"I don't know either."

"It wasn't your fault. You know? What happened… it wasn't your fault."

"You used to say that all the time."

"I know, but back then I wasn't sure I meant it. Now I am. Now I know. None of this was your fault. I wanted someone to blame for a while and I blamed you and I am so sorry about that. I blamed you and myself, because he was dead and there was no one else. So, I just need you to know that it wasn't your fault. What happened… it wasn't your fault."

"I know. Sometimes I just need someone to blame."

"Harlan Smith. His name was Harlan Smith. He was forty-two. He'd recently been laid off. He had a blood alcohol level of .18. He ran through that red light because he was drunk. He was drunk and too much of a coward to call a damn taxi. He left behind a wife and daughter. His daughter said he always smelled like gin. He'd tried to pick her up from theater rehearsal; she'd caught one look at him and refused to get in the car. She was thirteen. She didn't know what to do. She was going to call her mom and get him to wait for her, but he took off. Left her there, scared, alone, embarrassed. He screwed up her life. He screwed up her life and he screwed up our life and we can't blame ourselves. It was him, not you, not me. He killed her." He paused, flipping the turn signal up and stopping that dreaded ticking.

"I love you and maybe I didn't say that enough before you left and maybe I didn't sound like I meant it, but I love you. And if we're going to do this, if we are going to live our lives, we can't keep blaming ourselves. We can't blame each other. We're only allowed to blame him. Just him. That's it."

She nodded. "You're right." Biting her lip, she added, "I never blamed you though. I just want you to know that I never blamed you."

"I know. You're a better person than I am."

"No. I was just in the wrong seat at the wrong time and I managed to stop at the wrong light at the wrong time. It wasn't my fault, but I can see why you would blame me. I can see why I would blame myself."

"No more though. Promise. No more."

"I promise." She said quieter than he'd previously thought possible.

The light turned green. She released his hand. He continued driving toward home – their home, that place he hadn't been in a month. They made it half a mile before she stared crying. The tears came down in waves. The mascara left paths down her checks. If he'd ever forgotten how pretty her eyes were there could be no denying it now, illuminated by all that black.

* * *

So come on, come on

So come on, come on

So come on, come on

So come on, come on

* * *

He pulled off into the nearest parking lot. He put a hand on her shoulder and watched her. He knew she'd speak when she was ready.

"I just. I missed you so much. I tried to deny it, you know? I tried really hard, but seeing you here. I can't. I just missed you. I missed our life together. I missed it so much and I know it can't be the same, but I don't care. I just…you're here. You're really here. You're really here and you can look at me and I can't remember the last time you could do that." She shook her head. "I just missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I am sorry I left."

"You were right to leave. I pushed you away and I shouldn't have done that. I screwed up…"

"We both screwed up."

"No. That's not… we didn't screw up, we weren't in the wrong. We just shut down. We shut down because we didn't know what to do."

She wiped at her eyes. "Yeah. That's for sure."

"I think it was for the best. You took the first step, you know? If you stuck around we would have wallowed like that forever, but you left and we couldn't. We had to look at the larger picture and the larger picture is that as much as I hate that she is dead, I love you. I love you and I would have to be an idiot to let you go."

"Ryan…" Her eyes were at it again; the saline sailed down her cheeks.

"I just… I promise to try this time."

"I like that." She put a hand on his cheek and turned his head until their eyes locked. He didn't pull away. He stared into her orbs as she stared into his. "I promise to try." She repeated.

When she let go, they went back to looking out the windshield. Silence over took them. She stared up at the convenience store's neon sign. She was in Berkeley. She was home and this time he was there too. They were in this together. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that would happen. She pictured more of the same. She pictured tragedy consuming them time and time again.

He shifted into first gear and pulled back onto the road. They were two miles from home – their home. She hoped it felt that way again, like theirs. Not hers. Not his. Theirs. Something they shared. She looked at the smile slowly spreading across his face and she knew. Those weren't empty words. Before she left they might have exchanged their share of empty promises, but this wasn't one of them. This one was real. It was truth you could feel in your chest.

This time, they were going to try.

* * *

_Song: Transatlanticism by Death Cab For Cutie_

ocgirl: Honestly, I am not sure how close we are to the end. I can tell you that the story is winding down and I know how I am going to end it, but I am not sure how long it will take to get there. So, for better or worse, there is quite a bit more to come.

Review?


	14. Impulse

_Chapter Fourteen: Impulse_

* * *

He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down

I'm gonna put it six feet underground

He said I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall

Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls

* * *

**Sunday **

"It's dusty in here." She said as she walked around the living room. She couldn't say it wasn't clean. It was immaculate, like he'd spent extra time making sure everything was perfect, like he'd known she was coming home. Except, he couldn't have known. She hadn't told him, hadn't told Summer, hadn't told anyone. She'd been trying to be her old self, had been trying to act on impulse.

The blinds were closed tight and very little sunlight came through. It was dark. Dark and dusty. She closed her eyes. She could remember when this place was happy and bright, when it felt like home.

"Yeah. Sorry. I… uh… I haven't been staying here."

She looked at him confused. "You haven't been staying here?"

"I've been staying with the Cohens."

"Oh." She walked over to the window and opened it. "Is that why you have all that stuff in the car?"

"Yeah." He nodded, changing his mind halfway through. "Well no, I was staying there, but I left."

"You left?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time." He stayed quiet. "Okay. Maybe later."

"Yeah. Sorry. I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"No. No." She chuckled. "This is just so weird."

"I know."

"Everything looks the same. It all feels so normal. I just keep expecting it be normal, but it's not. It's been two months. I missed half of March, all of April and May. It's just so surreal, you know? Everything is so uncanny. Like this is our house, but at the same time it's not. God. I can't believe it's been two months. I am sorry."

"No. You were right to…"

"Ryan, don't. Okay? I know I did the right thing, but I wish I hadn't had to. You know? I don't know. I feel like maybe if I had tried harder or pushed harder, maybe we could have gotten there without me having to leave."

"I wasn't ready to try, Taylor." He shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered, because I wasn't ready."

"I might not have been ready either." She gave him a smile. It was soft and had an almost sullen quality to it. "I forgot how much this place reminds me of her.

"Her. You. It got to be a little too much after a while." He agreed.

"I'm sorry." He moved his lips to speak, she continued before he had the chance to. "You should just get used to it. I'm going to say it all the time."

"You really don't have to."

"Yeah. I do. I missed you." Her front teeth moved to cup her lip. "You should probably shave though."

He gingerly ran his hands around his cheeks. "I thought I was pulling it off."

"Ryan Gosling you are not." She smirked. "Just a little too fair haired."

"I heard this guy from my French class say I looked like a deranged mountain man. I think he was just bitter because I punched him."

"You punched somebody?" She watched as his head bopped up and down. "I didn't think you did that any more."

"Neither did I." She stared at him. "He was telling dead baby jokes." He elaborated.

"Dead baby jokes?" He watched her eyebrows arch.

"Yeah. They're… I'd rather not."

"Right. Well, while we're on the subject of things we've done these last few months, I went on a date."

"Pardon?" He monotoned.

"A date. It was a month ago. I was trying to figure things out. I mean neither of us was exactly being the bigger person and I kept thinking about those last two years we were together. How amazing everything was. How perfect everything was and I thought maybe I was idealizing it. Maybe I was making you into my knight-in-shining armor. My Prince Eric. How maybe I was just so excited about being a 'part of your world' that I remembered everything a little better than it actually was. It was a test. Therapist endorsed and it failed miserably. Benjamin was an ass. He was like a lot like Henri, actually. Wore a scarf. Smelled like Brie. Recited poetry. Just… not the guy for me and the whole time all I could think was how much I missed you. How I wasn't making things better than they were, things were just that good. And then I got home and I was reeling from how god awful that date was and you'd left a message. I saved it. I listen to it all the time. You told me when you fell in love with me and I felt like such a coward. You know, there you were being the bigger person and I realized I hadn't really been trying when I left. I'd been pretending. I'd been doing what I'd done in high school. I'd been keeping up appearances and France was easier. I could be anyone there. I could grieve when I wanted to. I could be a totally different person when I wanted to, the type of girl who dated guys like Benjamin, but not even that as it turns out. I…."

He cut her off. "I kissed Theresa Diaz."

"What?"

"I kissed Theresa Diaz."

"Theresa? Theresa from Chino? Your childhood sweetheart? That Theresa?"

"Yeah. I mean I wouldn't call her my childhood sweetheart, but yeah."

"How was it?" Her voice shook.

"Not very good. She wasn't who I wanted be kissing. It was enlightening. That's when I realized that I was stupid, that I pushed you away. That I wasn't ready to talk about my feelings, so I pushed you away, when I should have done it anyway. We should have talked and it should have been hard. It should have been miserable, but we should have done it. I spent the whole day with Theresa and the whole time I was using her as a surrogate. I was scared of talking to you and so I said some of what I needed to say to her. I just… she wasn't the right person. You are and that's when I left that message."

"Wow." She gulped. "I know I have no right to be jealous, but I can't help it. You know? You kissed Theresa."

"You went on a date."

"A horrible date."

"A horrible kiss."

"I guess we'll call it even."

"Only seems fair." She fell into the couch and pulled her legs into her chest. He smiled at her.

"What?"

"Summer had all these pictures of you on her phone and there was this one. You were curled up on the couch, hugging your legs tight. In every other shot you managed to hide it, you know? You were the Taylor from high school who hid all that sadness away, but in that photo you could see it. I just … you looked so much better, but you weren't pretending anymore. You were there. You weren't wearing a mask." He sat down next to her. "She died and you couldn't sit still. You worked constantly. You wrote thank you notes for flowers and meals. You were an energizer bunny and every time I tried to do something real, you pulled away. I mean, I didn't try often or hard, but when I did you pulled away. You didn't want to be like Julie and I got that. You wanted to pick up and move forward and I got that, but you were always between these two extremes – depressed, near catatonic from sadness or a busy bee who fluctuated between keeping your mind off of what happened at all costs and trying to get me to open up about it. And I didn't know how to deal with that or anything and I pushed you away and you know the rest of the story, but the point is, when I saw that picture I knew. I knew you were ready to deal. I knew you weren't going to just pretend anymore. I thought I was in this place to try and move forward, but I saw that picture and I knew. I knew that if I could get you come home we could do it. We could make being alive worth it again. We could try together and here you are and you think that too and I just… you just reminded me of that picture is all."

Her eyes fell to her knees. "I always think about my birthday. You tried really hard and I just… I freaked out. I was so scared that if I celebrated it'd be like I'd given in, that I'd accepted that this was my life now. Like maybe the whole thing had been a test and you're right, I did pull away. I pulled away then and you're right, you didn't try often or hard and you did push me away pretty much from the minute she was in the ground until the minute I left. But, I was inconsistent and sometimes I did pull away… I don't even know what I am trying to say here… Sorry, maybe? Sorry I made it so hard for you to try before."

"You didn't."

"Yeah, I did. You did too, we both did. Neither of us is blameless and neither of us is guilty. We were both so wrapped up in ourselves that somehow, somewhere the other got lost." She looked him in the eye. "I didn't even wish you a happy birthday. I saw you on your birthday. I knew it was your birthday and I didn't even bother to say anything. I spent the day helping Kirsten around the gallery, but I came home and pretended it was any other day and it wasn't. I am sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, its not. Just because I decided getting older was too much to handle, doesn't mean I had any right to decide that for you." He watched her get up and walk to the hall closet. She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and reached for something at the top. It was a hat box, big and round. Knowing her it'd probably housed some huge, floppy sunhat that looked ridiculous at first glance, but amazing on her.

She handed him the box, pretty in pastel pink. "You got me a hat?"

"Just open it."

Inside were two perfectly wrapped presents. He couldn't help but smile at the wrapping. She'd probably spent far more time on them than was necessary. At Christmas time she'd set up a whole wrapping station. She'd spent hours following gridlines, delicately folding, adding ribbons and bows, making every gift seem like it'd been wrapped by a professional.

Who was he kidding? She was a professional.

"These are for me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I got a jump-start and I knew you'd never look in there. Happy Belated Birthday."

"You got the M right." He murmured.

"Well, you know March, May totally the same thing." She gave him a smile. "Big one first. Little one second."

He began unwrapping carefully, tentatively. She motioned for him to speed up. "You know me. If you don't hurry, I'm going to have to unwrap it for you."

He did as she said. "Never know Paris might have changed you."

"Nothing could change that." He'd peeled back the wrapping to reveal the book inside. "You kept mentioning that you wanted a copy of Frank Lloyd Wright's _The Future of Architecture_. A good one. Not like the decrepit old one they have in the university library but that it was hard to find, because it's not in print anymore. Well, in early January, I was in the Mission District coming back from the office and I passed this used bookstore and they had one in near perfect condition. If you open the inside cover, it's even signed." She tried to gauge his expression. "You don't like it."

"No. No." He met her gaze. "It's not… I love it. I really…" he leaned in close to her. "I love it." His face was a few inches away from hers. She stared into his eyes, bluer than the sky. Azure pools, limitless, unending. He moved in closer and closer still, until their lips touched.

It was the first real kiss they'd had since January nineteenth, since the day they'd driven back from Reno, since the night before their daughter died. During the time before she'd left, it'd been nothing but pecks on the cheek and sympathetic kisses on the forehead.

This kiss made her eyes go wide and her knees go weak. It woke Sleeping Beauty from her slumber, brought Snow White back to life, and gave Ariel her voice back. This kiss was everything her kisses with Henri never were. It was passionate, tender. It was everything she'd imagined when she was little. It was everything the quick pecks between her mother and father had never been. It was intimate. It was loving. It was proof he still loved her, even if she was crazy, even if she had run six thousand miles away.

Slowly and steadily they broke apart. "Ryan..."

"Taylor." She stared at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded distractedly, "The other one is silly." She pointed to the other present.

"I am sure it's not." He pulled back the wrapping paper quickly.

"It's a Lego model of Falling Water. I got it thinking you could build it 'with' Aurelia, but that's not… Anyway, we could do it or you and Seth or just you. It was just a silly little thing."

"Not silly." He leaned in close again.

"No?" Her heart beat hard in her chest.

"No." He repeated with a shake of his head. Their foreheads touched. "It's great. It's really great and I am glad you didn't give any of this to me in March. I wouldn't have appreciated it."

"I can get us cake and wine later. May 31st can be this year's March 10th."

"And February 24th." He grabbed a hold of her hand. "Come with me, I have something to show you."

She followed him through the kitchen and out the back door. The grass was high. He needed to mow. Her flowers needed replanting. He pulled her into the garage, what had once been their office.

He stopped in front of something large and covered by a sheet. "This is for you." He told her. She pointed at herself. He nodded. She pulled back the covering swiftly.

"It's a desk." She said quietly, admiring the handiwork. It was the design he'd finished when she was still pregnant, finally brought to life. It was sleek and slender. It was the epitome of her style. She knocked on the wood; it was solid too. Real wood. It was the type of furniture you just couldn't buy anymore, that is, unless your pockets were overflowing with cash. "You finished it?"

He shrugged. "I had some time."

"It's beautiful." She shook her head. "I knew it was a great design, but it's really something."

"It better be, you waited two years for it."

She frowned. "Well, they went by like that."

He slid his hand into hers and squeezed it tightly. "Yeah. Too fast." He agreed.

* * *

Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire

Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires

* * *

_He noticed Frank first, his back straight in that hard hospital seat. _

_His hands fell to his knees and he bent over as he panted. All the parking spots near the front of the hospital were taken; he had to park in the reserve lot. August fifth must have been a bad day to need medical attention. He looked at his watch. August sixth. _

_Straightening up he noticed Seth glare. "It's twelve-twenty. What happened to eleven-forty?" _

_He managed to roll his eyes. "Traffic." _

"_Traffic Smaffic." Seth muttered, flipping through the pages of some ancient magazine._

_Ryan pointed at is father. "What's he doing here?" His pulse raced. He'd thought he was in good shape, but he guessed not. He wasn't willing to chock any of it up to nerves. _

_Seth shrugged. "Taylor was freaking out. She called Julie." _

"_We were in Carmel at Big Sur, it's only two hours. We drove up." Frank clarified._

"_He answered his phone when we called at eight. He's been here for two hours." _

"_You're going to want to shut up now, Seth." Ryan warned, shooting Seth a glare that sent shivers down his spine. "I don't need you to make me feel bad. Believe me, I feel bad enough as it is." _

_Frank offered him a bottle of water. He accepted, falling into one of the chairs and trying to catch his breath. "I can't believe she's having the baby." _

"_Five centimeters dilated. Ninety percent effaced." Seth grumbled. "I am not entirely sure what that means, but those were the last numbers." _

"_I am going to be a dad." He took a deep breath in and held it. "Fuck. I am going to be a dad." _

"_Should have thought about that before you decided not to use a condom."_

_Ryan's eyes narrowed. "It's not like you've never had a pregnancy scare." _

"_Luckily Summer isn't as fertile as myrtle in there." Seth pointed to one of the rooms. _

"_Where is she?" _

"_Room 213." Seth said, not bothering to look up from his magazine. _

_Ryan started to get up but Frank reached his arm out and stopped him. He couldn't remember the last time his dad touched him, that is, the last time his dad calmly touched him. No alcohol induced haze. No rage. "You're obviously worked up." Frank managed. "You don't want to go in there like that. You want to go in their calm, collected. You don't get to be nervous today. That's all Taylor. Just take a minute." _

_Ryan sat back down. His eyes watched the clock. She'd been in labor four hours and he had missed it. He'd been in Fresno; he'd been stuck on the ninety-nine. He couldn't believe it. This was not how the day was supposed to go. He needed Sandy and Kirsten. He needed a pep talk. He needed to make things up to his girlfriend, the mother of his child. _

"_When your mom was in labor with you," he heard Frank say. He turned to look at him warily. "I wore a rubber band on my wrist. Every time I thought I was going to freak out I flicked it." _

_He handed him one. "Grabbed this from the nurse's station. I'd just keep it in your pocket. If you need it, it's there." _

_Ryan nodded. "Thanks." _

"_I think you're ready." Frank said, patting his shoulder. _

_He shot up. "Doubt it."_

* * *

Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn

Do back the things it did to you in return

* * *

She stared at his phone. It'd rung every hour on the hour since they'd left the cemetery. He hadn't picked it up once.

The clock on the microwave proclaimed 8:59. Sixty more seconds and it was going to ring again. She waited anxiously, wondered what exactly was going on. She'd wondered that since early Saturday morning when she'd gotten his message, but now? Now it seemed urgent. Now she was worried.

The clock struck nine and she jumped despite herself at the ring, knew it was coming, but couldn't stop herself all the same. Her body shook, her hand rushed to her heart. He barely gave the phone a passing glance. To her the ring was maddening, the sole sound piercing through their silence. To him it was just white noise.

She watched him. His whole body tensed. His legs, like hers, hung down off the kitchen table. Unlike hers, they started pumping harder and faster. He was obviously upset.

"What's going on, Ryan?"

He took a sip from the bottle of Petite Sirah she'd bought them. They hadn't bothered to use glasses. Couldn't be bothered to care about germs or class.

"Nothing."

"It's me. I know you and I know that something is going on. What is it?"

"Nothing."

She reached over and put a hand on top of his. With a roll of her eyes she gently scolded. "Atwood."

He downed a little more wine, stayed quiet, stayed tense.

"Ryan." She warned.

"Kirsten's pregnant."

"Good for her." The words came out more bitter than he'd expected from her. Bitterer than he'd thought she was capable of being. "That it?"

"They didn't tell me."

"Ah. So here you are trying to turn to your family for support and they don't even bother to tell you they're expecting."

"Something like that."

"What else could there be?" She thought it over for a second, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a swig. "Maybe a little: I'm depressed and wallowing and they act like they understand, but they can't because inside they're beaming."

He nodded. "Feels like twice the lie."

"I have a little theory."

"Yeah?"

"I think that the universe has decided that our little makeshift family can only be allotted a limited amount of happiness. Each of us gets it in strides."

"Really?"

"Think about it. You move in with the Cohens. You get a shot; the Cohens get a second kid. Happy. Meanwhile next door, life for the Coopers…"

"Not so good."

"Not so good." She agreed. "You and Marissa couple back up. Seth and Summer are going strong. Theresa comes back and tells you she's pregnant. You go to Chino. Seth goes to Portland. No one is happy. I'll skip the whole Trey thing, but note it as exhibit three."

"Noted."

"Somewhere in there I join the gang. I am happy having hot and sweaty sex with Jack." He slapped her playfully across the chest. "You use him to stay at Harbor. Sex stops. Taylor not so happy."

"Maybe not the best example."

"It was a pretty long dry spell after that." She rationalized.

"And you're maybe a little tipsy?"

"That too." She smirked. "The Johnny thing. The Marissa getting back into Harbor thing. The Johnny dies thing. Marissa's tortured youth phase. The whole Seth/Summer Brown drama. Then, you know, things get back on track for Marissa. Life is good. Seth is going to RISD. Summer is going to Brown. I am going to the Sorbonne, not that anyone really cared. Marissa is going to Greece. Then fire, dust, smoke, death, destruction. A few cage fights, environmental protests, marriages, divorces, break-ups, and expulsions later, things are back on track. You and I are happy, Seth/Summer, Julie/Frank, Kirsten/Sandy – hell, even Kaitlin. Then earthquake. Then Kirsten miscarries. Then everyone lives at Julie's and tensions run way too high. Then you and I are expecting and scared shitless. Fast forward a few months, people are settled in in Berkeley, we have a beautiful baby girl. Everyone is happy. A year later, baby is dead. A few months later, Kirsten and Sandy are having another kid. See?" He didn't. "There isn't enough happiness to go around, so the universe has decided to instead screw with us. Sprinkle some here and take some there. Give everybody a chance to be happy and everyone a chance to be miserable."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"No?"

"No."

"You think things happen for a reason then?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"Because even given all the bad things that have happened, the Cohens adopting me is still the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even with the pain I feel now, Aurelia is still the best thing I ever did. Even given all we've been through together, you're still the only girl for me."

She tried not to blush. "That certainly sounds nice."

"Yeah."

"You know, sometimes I feel responsible."

"Taylor we've been over this, you can't…"

"Not for Aurelia, for Marissa. Sometimes, I feel like it's my fault she died."

Ryan was at a loss. "How?"

"The whole Volchok prom thing. I did that thing that I did, that I do. I made someone personally responsible for what happened. I could have called the cops, but I didn't. I put it on you and you went and got that money back. And we've never talked about how or any of that, but I don't know. If I hadn't gotten you embroiled in all that, given you an excuse to go all Ryan Atwood on him, maybe he wouldn't have hated you quite that much. Maybe he wouldn't have run you off the road."

"I didn't need an excuse to wail on him."

"Maybe not, but you wouldn't have if I hadn't made you get back that money."

"Money that he stole. Besides, I don't remember you making me do anything."

"I knew who took that money and I knew you were there and while I may not have _known_ you, I knew you and I knew what I was doing. My show wasn't without its motives."

"You're over thinking things. Overextending yourself."

"Maybe." She shrugged.

"Nothing is your fault Taylor."

"Que sera, sera?"

"Huh?"

"You know? Que sera, sera, what ever will be will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera?"

"Not familiar."

"It's a Doris Day song. Seth never made you watch the Man Who Knew Too Much?"

"Seth is not as into Hitchcock as you think he'd be."

"You talked to him?" He shook his head no. "What'd he do? I get the Kirsten and Sandy thing, but what did Seth do?"

"I don't know. It's just all of it I guess. Kirsten and Sandy. Summer going to France without telling anyone…"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't…"

"Because if anything that's on me."

"No…"

"You ever think that maybe you're just mad at me?"

"I'm not."

"It's understandable, Ryan." She turned to look him in the eye. "It's okay if you are."

"I'm not."

"Maybe a little?"

"No."

"Ryan, I left for two months. I wrote you a note and I left without so much as a goodbye. I love you, but you'd be insane not to be."

"I'm not. I mean, I was, but I am not."

"Why?" She didn't understand. "I mean, how can you not be? I am mad at me."

"You're always mad at you. You hold yourself to impossible standards."

"Be that as it may."

He shrugged. "I went to therapy, realized there were underlying issues. When the building collapses, you can't take it out on the construction crew, you've got to blame the architect and the poor foundation."

"I'm the construction crew?" She asked.

"Does it matter?" He retorted.

"Guess not."

"Point is, I am not mad at you."

"But you're mad at Seth?"

"Seth disappeared."

"Seth was at college."

"Yeah, but he stopped..."

"I know. Summer did too." She managed a slight shake of her head. "I don't know, I think our problem is that we forget that we weren't the only ones that lost her. It feels like it, you know? I mean she was ours, but she wasn't just that. She had all these people who loved her and everyone deals with loss differently. Seth and Summer…"

"Avoid."

"Yeah."

"I shut down." He told her.

"Depending on the day I shut down/avoid/pretend/break down. I am a mess."

"You're a mother."

"Was…"

"Don't."

She grabbed the bottle of wine. "We should be happy for them."

"Who?"

"Sandy and Kirsten. We should be happy for them."

"I am happy for them. I am just…"

"Simultaneously mad and jealous? Mad that they didn't tell you and jealous that they get this beautiful baby to look forward to and all you get is me?"

"Take out that last sentence and it sounds about right." She stared down at her feet. "You're not a consolation price, Taylor. Look at me." She obliged. "You're not."

"And they're not the bad guys, Ryan. They're just not." She pushed his phone toward him. "Call them."

"I can't." He took a deep breath in. "I get it, but I can't. Not now. Not yet."

"Fine. Sit here and be miserable then."

"Misery loves company."

"And for better or worse, company you have." She held the bottle up. "At the very least, we should give them a toast." She cleared her throat. "To Kirsten and Sandy Cohen." She drank from the bottle before handing it to Ryan.

"To Kirsten and Sandy Cohen." He repeated.

* * *

He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

* * *

_She was walking around the hospital room, running her hand over her belly. Every few inches she'd lean on something for support. She moaned softly, obviously trying to ignore the fact that she was in pain. If there was one thing Taylor Townsend didn't like, it was having no control. _

_Summer and Julie sat facing her, though Summer wasn't quite sitting or standing. She was ready to hop up at any minute and lend a helping hand. Taylor obviously wanted none of it. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and inhaled. "Where's Ryan?" He caught the glint of tears near her eyes. "Where the hell is Ryan?" _

_He was surprised she hadn't noticed the door open. "Hey there." He called from the doorframe. _

_Her eyes fluttered open. She let a couple of tears fall. "Hey." _

"_I'm so sorry." He told her, walking over and giving her that helping hand, whether she liked it or not. "I am so sorry." _

_She rested her head on his shoulder. "Well you should be." He used his right hand to rub her back. "You know how they say giving birth hurts?" _

"_I think I've heard a thing or two." _

"_Well they weren't lying. In fact I think they might have underestimated." _

_Julie nodded from the corner of the room. "When I had Marissa, I thought I was going to die. Really die. Then I had Kaitlin and realized, oh no. That's just how that is." _

"_You want to sit down?" Ryan asked. She was hunched over more than he thought was comfortable. _

"_Yeah. Just in a minute." She grimaced. "The doctor said this might speed things along and I don't want to be one of those women who is in labor for three days. I just want the kid to go speeding down the birth canal." _

_He smiled softly. "I don't think you get a choice." _

"_Oh no." She turned to face him. "You get to say 'yes' and 'sure' and 'of course' and 'that sounds about right' and 'what ever you want/say' not 'I don't think you get a choice.' You're Mr. Positive Guy today." _

"_Right." _

"_How was Fresno?"_

"_Awful." Her face tightened and she grabbed a hold of his hand._

"_Yeah?" She asked, ushering him to keep talking. _

"_Yeah. I hate Fresno." Her hold on his hand intensified. She motioned for him to keep going. "I drove by my old house." _

_She took a few deep breaths, breathed through the pain. "Yeah. How was that?" Her grip tightened. _

_He shrugged. "Well, there weren't any hand prints in the cement, that's for sure." His fingers started to go numb. "Are you okay?" _

"_Yeah." She pushed air out through her pursed lips. "Contraction. Just keep talking." _

"_I am an idiot." She nodded in agreement. "I never should have taken off like that." _

"_No." She agreed. _

"_I'll make it up to you however I can." _

"_Don't worry about it, just be here now." _

"_Okay." She slowly let go of his hand. He shook it out._

"_Summer?" Taylor asked, turning to her friend. She shot up quickly. "Want to go tell the doctor I'm ready for him to stick needles in my spine, put me in twilight sleep, you know, whatever makes this slightly more tolerable?" _

_She was gone in a flash. "I thought you were going to try to do it naturally." _

"_Try?" She scowled. "I did try. Four hours I tried, Ryan. Four hours and you know how I told you I faint at the sight of blood?" He nodded. "Well, turns out I don't do so good with pain either. I am a wuss, sue me!" _

"_I didn't mean." He paused. "Sorry." _

"_No. No. I am sorry. I am just…." _

"_I understand." She was on the verge of crying again. "Ready to lay back down?" _

"_Uh-huh." _

_He put an arm around her for support and guided her to the bed._

* * *

Oh and I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

* * *

**Monday**

He watched her from the hallway. Her make-up was perfect. He was still in his sweats and there she was putting him to shame, making it look like he'd wasted the day away. He looked at his watch. It was only ten. He guessed he couldn't say _only_ ten, as if ten was early. He'd always woken up by seven. He'd never been one to sleep in, but today ten felt normal. Seven felt ungodly.

He took a sip from his coffee and continued to stare at her. Her blouse clung perfectly to her frame and her shorts hung off her hips as if they'd been professionally tailored.

She hadn't noticed him yet. Hadn't noticed the way his eyes followed her. Hadn't caught a glimpse of the yearning in them.

She hadn't come to bed last night. He'd waited for her until his eyelids had gotten too heavy. He wondered where she'd slept. Her side of the bed was still made. There was no dent in her pillow, no lingering scent of Chanel. She was home, but she wasn't really back, not yet. Not the way he wanted her to be. He wanted her in their bed. He wanted her next to him. He wanted her to barely give him breathing room, the way she used to. Back when she could read his thoughts. Back when she was crazy and hilarious and unexpected. Back when they couldn't get enough of each other.

She put her hands on something. He didn't have to see it to know what it was. It was Miles. That's what she had always called it, Miles the Meerkat. Kirsten had gotten it for Aurelia's first birthday; a nod to her love of that show on Animal Planet that Seth had always teased her about. Miles had quickly become Aurelia's favorite toy. It'd gotten to the point where she wouldn't sleep without it.

She played with it awkwardly, putting it back into the crib after a minute and turning toward the door.

"Morning." She greeted when she saw him.

"Morning." He replied. She wasn't wearing eye makeup today. He managed a small smile. She'd learned her lesson. "How'd you sleep?"

"Alright." She shrugged. "The couch is a lot more comfy than I remembered. Then, I haven't slept on it since I was pregnant and everything was kind of miserable then."

"Why'd you sleep on the couch?"

"I stayed up late and you were already asleep. You looked peaceful and I didn't want to wake you." She stepped in closer to the doorway.

"Never stopped you before."

"That was before. This is now. You weren't used to the space before…"

"I never wanted the space, Taylor."

"Right." She gave him a smile. He reciprocated. "You still can't come in here, can you?"

"I…" He started with a shrug.

"It's okay."

"No. It's not." He shook his head before continuing. "I don't believe in ghosts, but when I go in there I know what it feels like to be haunted. I can't explain it."

"I think you explained it quite well." She joined him out in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. "Anyway, that was enough nostalgia for one day. I spend any more time in there I'll be in hysterics by noon. We don't need that."

"No. We don't."

"I had this idea though." He followed her down the stairs. "Every morning we could share one of our favorite memories of her, of our life, just for a while. Just until it hurts less."

"Does it ever hurt less?"

"Until its easier to accept the hurt, maybe?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"So. Um. Let's see…. It was Christmas Eve and she was four months old. We were at the Cohen's house. We'd packed up everything we thought we needed for the week, because even though we live practically around the corner from Kirsten and Sandy…"

"Three miles is not practically around the corner."

She looked at him in disbelief. "You used to go there on your morning run. You'd get up, run over there and grab a bagel and coffee with Sandy before class. Half the time you'd beat Aurelia and I."

"You were slow."

She scoffed. "I wasn't slow. I was taking care of your daughter. You used to like it when I did that."

"I was in awe of you. You were amazing." She blushed. "Seriously, you were everything my mom never was for me. Everything I always imagined Kirsten was for Seth. More, even."

"Yeah." She was dazed; she barely got the words out. "Well, you weren't so bad yourself."

There it was. He looked at his watch. It was eleven passed ten. He stared in her eyes. It hadn't taken long for that. For the pain to come shining through. For the tears to well in that spot he knew all too well by now.

"Anyway, it can't exactly be far if you can run there in less than twenty. If you barely work up a sweat."

"Yeah." He admired her effort to get passed it. Admired her resolve to pretend everything was normal. Then again, maybe he just needed to accept it. This was their new normal. Tears welling. Pain shining. Words stinging. Voices catching. All of it. It wasn't easy, but it was normal all the same. Then again, he should be used to that by now. His life had been difficult far longer than it had been easy. Besides, having her there made the impossible stuff somehow seem possible. Their new life was hard, but with her around it wasn't all bad.

"Where was I?"

"Christmas Eve."

"Right. So we'd brought all of this stuff, like we were moving in. And we were all sitting around the tree. You had your little Christmas themed yarmulke on, looked handsome as always. Aurelia was fussing, so you took her and put her on your shoulder, patted her back in this quasi-burping-soothing motion that I could never perfect. And Seth was rambling on and on about something. I was tired and my head was going to explode. You know? He couldn't just put in the movie; he had to keep talking about it. You though? You were so calm and collected, so cool. Nothing was bothering you. The crying. The rambling. Nothing. And then…"

"She threw up all over my shirt."

"Yeah."

"And we realized that we'd brought all this stuff for the baby, but we'd left our clothes at home."

They shared a smile.

"Yeah."

"Your birthday."

"Hmm?"

"Your birthday last year. Remember? I made reservations at that new little French restaurant; Sandy and Kirsten watched Aurelia. Well, they were going to. You were nervous about leaving her. You'd just started classes and you missed seeing her during the day, and you were freaking out about spending the night away from her."

"I think freaking out is a little strong." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but she was so tiny and adorable and I just…"

"You were a just a good mom. I know. You don't have to tell me. Anyway, we were just supposed to drop her off. The whole thing should have taken ten minutes, but every time we were almost out the door you turned back around. You used any noise she made as an excuse to stay. We had reservations for seven thirty; we didn't leave the Cohens until a quarter passed eight. The restaurant couldn't take us. We ended up having to go to that little diner…"

"Still the best cheese burger I've ever had."

"Yeah. Wasn't quite the plan though."

"Please, the plan was for you to have your way with me and you did."

"A few times."

"See, I made it through the important part."

"You woke up at four in the morning and paced until you could pick her up at eight."

"I didn't pace." He shot her a look. "I don't pace."

"You paced."

"Maybe." She poured herself a cup of coffee. "See, that wasn't so bad."

"Not in the slightest." He stepped in closer to her. "I missed you last night."

"I didn't even think you'd notice."

"Of course, I noticed."

"I guess, I am not used to you noticing me anymore. It's been a while."

"I learned my lesson."

"Good." She stared down into her coffee cup. "I'll make it up to you. Get dressed. I'll take you to breakfast."

"Where?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Where do we always get breakfast?"

He took that as a good sign. It had to be a good thing to fall back into the old routine. Didn't it?

* * *

And honey all the movements you're starting to make

See me crumble and fall on my face

And I know the mistakes that I made

See it all disappear without a trace

And they call as they beckon you on

They said start as you mean to go on

Start as you mean to go on

* * *

"_You okay?" She asked, looking over at him with concern in her eyes. _

"_I am fine." He smirked. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" _

"_Eh. I am still riding that epidural high. We have some time before we have to worry about me again." _

"_No." He shook his head vigorously. "Today is your day." _

"_No." She mimicked the shake of his head. "Today is _her_ day." _

"_Her day?" _

"_Yeah."_

"_God. Her day." _

"_I know. Only a few more hours now." She chucked. "I have no control over that, I know."_

"_Look, I just wanted to say that I am sorry about…" _

"_Don't. It's okay. You're here now. You didn't miss it. We're going through this together. It's fine."_

"_Not just that..." _

"_Ryan, it's okay. I promise. It's okay. It wasn't just you, it was me too. It was stupid. It doesn't matter. You're right; a middle name is a middle name. I mean, I hate my middle and it's not like that really defines me." _

"_I don't even know your middle name."_

"_Because I don't want you to know my middle name." _

_He pointed to her belly. "I think we're passed the point of no return now. You don't tell me, I'll read it off the birth certificate in a few hours."_

_She shook her head. "I am pretty sure you can just do middle initial on those things." _

"_I don't think so." _

_She sighed. "It's Emmitt." _

"_Emmitt?" _

"_As in Emmitt Smith. As in my mom's first big client, said she knew he was going to be a star. Even when he fell to the 17__th__ draft pick, she knew. Just like she knew I was going to be a boy and she was going to make me a football legend and ride my coattails to an early retirement and a vacation villa in Tuscany." _

"_Taylor Emmitt Townsend?" _

"_Yeah. Tragic, isn't it?" _

"_Certainly puts Jane in perspective." _

"_Yeah." She smiled. "It's growing on me. Baby girl Jane Atwood." _

"_Baby girl?" _

"_Unless, I am missing something. I wasn't aware we agreed on a name before you stormed out."_

"_What happened to 'Don't. It's okay.'" _

"_It is okay. I am just relaying facts." _

"_Taylor." _

"_What?" _

"_I am sorry about what happened…"_

"_Ryan, really it's fine." _

"_Except it's not fine. You needed me and I wasn't around and that's probably not the best way to start this." He waved his hands around vaguely._

"_This was started like eight months ago." Taylor mimicked him. "This is fine."_

"_So going into labor early wasn't the least bit nerve racking and me being gone wasn't a big deal at all?" _

"_It all worked out." _

"_Taylor…"_

"_What do you want me to say, Ryan? I accept your apology and everything is fine? Okay. I accept your apology and everything is fine. The future is now. This is it. This is what matters. This is the moment where everything comes together. Would I have liked it if you were around when my water broke? Of course. Would I have liked it if you hadn't just disappeared? Yeah. Would I have liked it if you kept your cell phone on when you did? Uh-huh. But none of that matters. We can't change the past, we can only shape what happens next and what I want to happen next is for us to welcome our nameless baby girl into as happy and reconciled an environment as possible. Can we do that?"_

"_Yeah." _

"_Good. Now, are you okay?"_

* * *

He said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go

Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow

Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry

You just sit down there and you wonder why

So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

And I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

Oh to the head

* * *

She sat on the counter in the bathroom watching the steam from the shower rise. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting her eyes fall shut. She could feel her pores opening. It was like she had her very own sauna. She could only imagine how hot he had the water; how red his skin would be when he left the tub.

She imagined him, shirtless, dripping wet. She imagined her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him, of every well-defined muscle in his body. She used to live for that hour after his run, live for seeing him fresh from the shower – the smell of his aftershave strong, his hair and body soft. If it hadn't been so long, she'd have joined him. She would have slipped off her clothes, peeled back the shower curtain, and waited until he noticed her, until he put his arms around her. That is, if he put his arms around her. She couldn't anticipate his actions anymore; it'd been a lifetime since she could do that.

She jumped when the shower curtain rustled, she'd been too enwrapped in her daydream to hear the water turn off.

He reached for his towel and dabbed his face dry.

She stared at his body, his naked flesh. She traced every contour with her eyes, burned the image of him into her mind. It'd been too long. Her eyes wandered. Far too long.

He moved the towel from his face to his waist and looked up at the mirror. "Taylor?" He asked, taken aback by her presence. "What are you doing?"

She held up a razor. "I can't take it anymore."

He rubbed his chin. "It's not hurting anyone."

"Au contraire, Ryan. It's hurting my eyes." He stared at her. "By default that means it's hurting me."

"Taylor…"

"Don't Taylor me." She snapped. "Say goodbye to the beard. I get it you're sad. I am sad. We're grieving. Guess what, you can see that in our eyes, the world doesn't need any other visual aid. There is no excuse for you to look like a dirty hippie, deranged mountain man, whatever. Now, come here." She demanded.

He took a tentative step forward. She waved him closer. "I don't bite."

"I've been growing it out for a while."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

He sighed. His facial hair was starting to feel like the only thing he had control over anymore. He wasn't ready to part with it. "No, but…"

"But nothing, Ryan. Come here." He did as she said. He wouldn't tell her, but secretly he missed this. Missed her telling him what to do in that direct voice that proclaimed 'listen to me, I know best', and she did. She did know best. He could always count on her to guide him in the right direction.

She grabbed a can of shaving cream from the counter and watched the aerosol spill its contents into her hands. She spread the foam over his face. Her hands were cool against his skin. Her touch was inviting. She chuckled at the sight of him. "Now you really look like Santa Claus."

He shot her a look. "I never looked like Santa Claus."

"Yeah, you did." She said, suppressing a laugh. He raised an eyebrow. "Hot, muscular Santa Claus, but Santa all the same. Fret not though, we're taking care of that right now."

She dipped the razor into the water she'd stopped in the sink. "Come a touch closer." She directed. He rolled his eyes, but did as told. "And stay still, I wouldn't want to cut you." She said, a concealed response to his obvious annoyance.

She ran the razor down his cheek smoothly, dipping it in water after the first stroke and watching the pool begin to cloud. "I was thinking we could go that bereavement group that Dr. King suggested…"

"You mean the Grief Recovery Support Group?"

"That's such a mouthful."

"It also implies that you can recover. I mean really recover, not just go on and I don't know how I feel about that." The blade tickled his skin. "I went a few times, after you left." She stopped mid-stroke. "You went a few times too apparently, they remembered you."

"I tried to get you…"

"I know." He shook his head. "You never told me you actually went though."

"I tried. You never wanted to listen." She rested the razor on his cheek again, dragged it down his skin. "Anyway, I just thought it might be good for us to go together, but we could find another group if you wanted, one that doesn't suggest a cure."

"No. No. It was a good group of people. We could go." The scent of her perfume tickled his nose. She leaned in closer with each new stroke. There could be no denying that she was there, really there, not some desert mirage. Her shorts rode up. He caught a glimpse of her thigh, the soft glow of her skin. "Together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She smiled and pushed his chin up. "Stay still now, this is the hard part."

He stared at the top of her head as she glided the razor down the soft under hang of his jaw. Her eyes were focused on the task at hand, methodical and concentrated. Head near hers he smelled the floral undertones of her shampoo.

He closed his eyes and suddenly it was early December and they were in the shower together. Aurelia was at the babysitter and she'd skipped class to come find him, had slipped into the tub without so much as a word, had greeted him with a suggestive gesture of the hand. He'd reciprocated and slowly everything had dissolved into chaos and giggles – an ill timed movement spilling her shampoo down the drain, the scent rising through the air, providing them unexpected but ever-so inspiring aromatherapy. He could still remember every contour of her body as it had been then. He was Superman, except instead of x-ray vision he had the power to undress Taylor Townsend in his mind, to see her exactly how she had been then, hair tumbling down her shoulders – the water adhering each strand to her skin, body sopping wet and glistening in the light, eyes looking at up at him with excitement and desire.

He felt a wet towel on his face. He opened his eyes. She'd finished shaving him and was cleaning up her mess. She grabbed a bottle of his after shave, let the liquid fall into her hands and slowly patted it onto his cheeks. "I missed the smell of this stuff." She smirked, leaning in close to him. "I missed this face."

He stared at himself in the mirror, her hands lingering. "You can actually see it now." She shook her head. "It's official, you're far too handsome for a beard, promise me you'll never let it get that bad again."

He didn't say anything. Silently, he ran his hands up her body to her face, mimicking her movement, keeping pressure on her cheeks. Silently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips into hers, letting his hands fall to her shirt and carefully undoing each of the buttons on her blouse. Silently, she pulled the towel from around his waist; let it fall to the ground. Silently, her legs reached out and wrapped around his hips, beckoning him closer, keeping him captive. He moved his lips to her ear, nibbled on it softly. "Are we doing this?" He whispered, his hands undoing the button of her shorts. She pushed herself up so they slid off with ease.

"I think we are." She breathed.

"Good." Her shirt was a crumpled ball on the floor. He moved his hands to unhook her bra. "Welcome home, Taylor Townsend."

* * *

And honey all the movements you're starting to make

See me crumble and fall on my face

* * *

_He rushed to get the doctor in a panic. His head was spinning. His ears were ringing; nothing was in focus anymore. "It's time", what did she mean it was time? She wasn't a medical professional. She couldn't just know, could she? It couldn't just suddenly be time. _

_The walk back down that hallway it took everything he had in him not to go run into the nearest closet and hyperventilate. It took everything he had in him not to disappear for another four hours. _

_How could it be time? _

_He heard the doctor say, "I hear you think you're ready to push." _

_Saw her nod. "I mean, I've never done this before, but it feels like it's time."_

"_It can't just be time." He said under his breath, noticed her pretend not to hear him. "Like she said, she's never done this before." He managed to say that louder._

"_Be that as it may." He noted her condescending smile. "I think it's time. What do you think?" _

_He watched the obstetrician look up from between her legs. "I think it's time to get this show on the road. You ready to have a baby?" _

_He felt his eyes go wide, would swear his blood sugar dropped. His knees went wobbly. He went to stand closer to her, less to be there for her and more to have something to hold on to. _

"_I think it's a little late for that now." Taylor smirked. _

"_I think you might be right."_

* * *

And I know the mistakes that I made

See it all disappear without a trace

* * *

"I kept imagining what it would be like to come home and never once did I imagine this." She was lying on the bathroom floor starting up at the ceiling. "Not once. Not for a second. I kept thinking I'd come back and it'd be more of the same. Two depressed people making each other miserable, too afraid to feel, to do anything."

"We've had enough misery, don't you think?"

"I do." He pulled her in closer to his chest.

"I think we just have to move on to that last stage. I think we just have to accept it, do what we were terrified to do before."

"You mean admit that she's gone and there is nothing we can do to get her back?"

"Yeah." He whispered into her hair.

"I don't know if I am there yet."

"Yes, you do. Yes, you are." He kissed the top of her head. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less. It doesn't mean the misery isn't there. It doesn't mean anything except that we're not going to let the misery consume us. I am not going to be too scared to talk to you. I am not going to be too scared to look you in the eye. You look like her and there is nothing I can do about it. You look like her and there is nothing I can do to bring her back. Before, I resented it. Now, I accept it. Now, I'm just going to let her live on through you."

"When did you get so good with words?"

"When you weren't around to do the talking for me."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. Never this. Never was it this."

"You thought about coming home a lot?"

"I thought about coming home on the plane there."

"But you didn't."

"I was scared. Before I left I was miserable. I hated that everything hurt. I hated how bad you could make me feel. I hated sympathy. I hated the words I am sorry… _I still hate those things_… but back then, there was very little that I didn't hate and I thought I'd come back to more of the same. I thought I'd come back and nothing would have changed. I thought I'd come back and have nothing left to do but let that love I have for you turn to hate, or worse let it fester into complete and utter indifference."

"I was starting to think you'd never come back. I was starting to think you'd meet some French guy and marry him in his family's chapel because he lent you money for a pay phone…"

"It was a subway ticket."

"Right. That was Henri. That was a lifetime ago, so I imagined a slight variation to the story. I imagined you in a white dress, with a diamond ring, kissing some Henri 2.0 before some justice of the peace. I imagined being an ocean away, unable to do anything."

"You thought I'd just marry some random stranger?"

"You've done it before."

"Yeah, but that was a lifetime ago." She stole his words.

"Some things have changed Taylor, but you're still that girl who dives in head first, who sees something she wants and goes after it, figures the rest out as she goes."

"Maybe, but I am not that girl who goes tumbling into something hoping to find love. Not anymore. I know what it is now and the word doesn't have that control it used to have, not when I don't feel it too." She shook her head. "I was always coming home, Ryan. I just didn't know how long it was going to take."

"I didn't know how much more I could take."

"Then I guess we both were pleasantly surprised this week. I guess we both remembered what relief feels like."

"Relief would have been no more internal bleeding. Relief doesn't exist anymore." She moved away from him, grabbing her shirt off the tile. "It was a pleasant surprise… the best surprise."

"No. The best surprise came on February 25th 2007. It didn't feel like it then, but it was. It was the best. There is just so much that I want to go back and tell myself. If I can't change what happened I want everything that happened to burn brighter in my memory. I want to go back in time and tell us to cherish every second we have with her."

"We did."

She slid her shirt on; let it hang open over her bare chest. "I don't want it to be like she never existed. I am scared that one day we'll have this new family and this new life and everything will seem okay, better than okay. Everything will be like it was and somewhere the hurt will lessen until one day it's barely there. I am scared she'll become something we don't talk about. You know? We might share a knowing glance, but we won't say her name. She'll just fade into dust. She'll be that one child we had before we had those beautiful children. Nameless. Faceless. Some distant memory of some tragic life."

"That won't happen." He got up from the floor.

"How do you know?"

"Because we won't let it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"You just do?" A frown started across her face. "It was such a pretty name."

"It is such a pretty name."

"You can't just know."

"Aurelia." He said loudly, grabbing a hold of her hands.

"What?"

"Aurelia."

"What are you doing?"

"You don't believe me that we won't let it be like she never existed, so I'm just showing you that we'll keep her name alive however we can." He squeezed her palms. "Aurelia."

"However we can?" He nodded.

"Aurelia." He repeated.

"This is silly."

He shrugged. "Aurelia."

"Aurelia." She managed.

"Aurelia."

They went on chanting her name, hands pressed together, inhaling the still damp air. Eventually, her hands started trembling and her voice shook. Eventually, she was in his arms letting the tears fall wildly down her cheeks. Eventually, his embrace became something she could barely remember, something from a long lost dream, loving and warm. Eventually, she looked into his eyes, felt his arms tight around her, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was home.

* * *

And they call as they beckon you on

They say start as you mean to go on

As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on

* * *

_He was ushered down to the end of the bed. He felt like he was in school being called to the front of the classroom, unsure of the answer, and about to embarrass himself in front of all of his peers. Except, only her eyes were on him and that was worse. Her gaze was the most important. Her opinion was the only one that mattered. He had to hold himself together. He couldn't falter under pressure. He couldn't disappoint. _

"_You see that?" The doctor pointed between her legs. _

"_Uh-huh." He said absent-mindedly. _

"_That's the head." _

"_How does it look?" Taylor asked. _

_Gross, he thought to himself. "Beautiful," He said out loud. He wasn't entirely sure which he meant. Maybe it was beautifully gross. He wondered if that was a thing. _

_He looked up at her, God she was amazing. The sweat trickled down her forehead. He couldn't imagine being in that much pain, couldn't imagine going on in spite of it, couldn't imagine bringing another life into the world. Then, he could only imagine. He'd never be asked to do something that big. Never be asked to sacrifice his body. Never be able to start the world anew. _

"_This is it." The OB managed. "One more big push and you have yourself a baby girl."_

_He went to stand next to her, noticed the fear and the doubt in her eyes. "Hey." He murmured. "Our beautiful baby girl is coming into the world because of you. You can do this. You can do anything. You are amazing." _

_She nodded and clutched on tightly to his hand. For a brief second, everything felt okay, like it'd be all right in the end. He closed his eyes, thought about how he believed everything he had just said, realized how in awe of her he was. How in awe of her he'd probably continue to be. He looked down at her face, contorted, closing in on itself. He got lost in her cheekbones. Fell into a trance. _

_He awoke to the sound of cries, to warm bodies busily moving and primping, to Taylor's smile, to umbilical scissors, to talk of cutting cords. _

_His lungs collapsed. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to faint; the linoleum floor would be a welcome release. Instead, he went forward giving his best headstrong look. _

_He knew he couldn't be a father, knew he was young, knew there had to be some mix-up somewhere, some mistake. They said it so convincingly though – his feet shuffled forward – he might as well dress the part._

* * *

So meet me by the bridge, meet me by the lane

When am I gonna see that pretty face again

Meet me on the road, meet me where I said

Blame it all upon

A rush of blood to the head

* * *

**Tuesday **

He woke to the soft glow of dawn light. Outside a new day was starting. A beautiful mix of yellows and pinks danced outside his window.

Her eyes were on the ceiling. They stared at it intently, as if expecting it to move, to do something unexpected, not continue on in fixed suspension. She'd rested a hand on his abdomen, reminding him that she was there. They were in this together, whatever _this _was.

She was wearing one of his t-shirts. The night had been far hotter than either of them had expected and it clung to her, as if an adhesive adhered it to her thighs. He'd thought about getting up in the middle of the night and dragging in the fan from the garage, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave her. He was too scared that if he did, he'd return to find her gone.

He wondered how long she'd been up, how long she'd been lying there, quiet and peaceful.

She'd always woken up before him. Even when Aurelia was tiny and they barely got a wink of sleep, she'd gotten up before him. Even when he'd offered to let her sleep in, she'd gotten up before him. She'd told him she'd sleep when she was dead. Sleeping was unproductive and if they were going to make Berkeley and a baby work, she didn't have time to be unproductive. She'd usually go downstairs and put a pot of coffee on. He'd wake up to a cup of it on the nightstand kept warm by a coffee warmer plate, an invention he'd long decided was one of the best known to man.

Not today. Today, she'd woken up and decided to stare at the ceiling. Today, she'd woken up and decided not to leave his side. He thanked god for small favors.

He felt her eyes on him. Neither of them said anything. They lay there silent. He slid his hand to cup hers. He gave her palm a squeeze and heard her suppress a laugh, heard her smile.

"I can't believe you're here." He said softly.

"I've been here for two days."

"I know." He shook his head. "I just can't believe it. I keep thinking this is all a dream and I am going to wake up any minute and you'll be back in France."

"It's not a dream." She moved in closer to him. "And I am not going anywhere."

"I wish I could believe you." He told her honestly.

"I'm not. I promise. I'm not." She rested her head on his chest.

"I wanted it to be perfect." He whispered into her hair absentmindedly.

"Hmm?" She asked, not catching his words.

"Before, I wanted it to be perfect and I should have just done it."

"What are you talking about?"

Without looking, he opened the drawer in the nightstand and felt for a box inside.

"Ryan, what are you talking about?" She repeated her voice muffled by the proximity her lips had to his skin.

"This." He said, handing her a small jewelry box. She felt the black fuzz before she saw it. She clutched it tightly in her hand. "I was going to ask you on Valentine's Day. That had been the plan when I bought it. I was going to take you on a drive up to Stinson Beach. Kirsten and Sandy were going to watch Aurelia. We'd have brunch at that place you love and then we were going to spend the day finally doing the Matt Davis Trail, like we talk about every time we go there. We'd be back to the beach by sunset and that's when I was going to ask. I was going to open a bottle of wine. I had this whole speech prepared. Assuming you said yes, we'd drive to San Francisco check into the St. Regis and have just enough time to shower before we headed to dinner at Chez Panisse. We'd eat, go back to the hotel, do whatever you wanted, wake up to the San Francisco skyline and spend the day on the other side of the bay for once. That's what I was going to do."

"Ryan…"

"But I didn't. And you know what? I don't care anymore. I don't care about it being perfect or what I imagined perfect to be. You're back and that's what matters. I don't want to lose you ever again. I can't. I want to make it that much harder for you to leave. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So what I am proposing is this."

He opened the box, and she finally caught a glimpse of the sparkle in that diamond and in the deep blue sapphires surrounding it.

"Let's do it." He continued. "Let's just get in the car and drive to Vegas. Let's commit to trying, commit to commitment. No fuss. Just you and me, a fresh start. I never thought when I met you that you'd be the right girl. In sophomore year and junior year and senior year all the way though graduation, I never thought. But you are, you are _it_. You are the one right thing. You are the craziest girl I've ever met, the funniest, the sweetest, the smartest, and the most interesting. Just, the best. And I want to spend every day of my life with you. Maybe this is impulsive. You left for two months, you've only been back two days, but you know what? You're impulsive and you make me impulsive. Kissing for Henri's lawyer, you falling for me, me falling for you, New Year's Eve. Everything. I just know that laying here next to you, everything that didn't feel right suddenly does. I just know that I can't imagine being away from you again. My gut is telling me to act on impulse and my impulse is to marry you."

She looked up at him. Their eyes locked. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She gave him a small smile, it was soft, subtly asking him to continue, to say those final words. "Marry me, Taylor Townsend?" It was more declaration than question.

Without a moment's hesitation, he heard her say, "Yes." He felt her nod into his chest. "Yes."

"Today?"

"Yes." She tried and failed to control her tears. "Just... yes. Today. Any day. Just yes."

He imagined in some parallel universe he'd asked her on Valentine's Day. He imagined _that_ Taylor had barely been able to contain her excitement, had screamed, had jumped up and down, had turned his proposal into a bit of a show. He imagined _that_ Taylor and him had spent the next day in San Francisco, blissful and happy and beaming, had gone home to their daughter, who was also blissful and happy and beaming. _He wished them the best. _

He looked at his fiancé, blissful and happy and beaming and quiet. He looked into her eyes, caught that joy and that tinge of sadness, that reminder that they would never be those people unburdened by loss. They'd always be Taylor and Ryan _minus her_.

They'd always be that couple who'd loved and lost.

He slid the ring from the box and guided it onto her left ring finger. Her smile widened, her teeth shined though. Maybe it was okay to be those people, he thought. Maybe despite it all, everything would be okay. "I love you."

She scooted up until they were face to face. "I love you too." She pushed her body hard into his, pressed her lips soft into his.

She laid over his chest, staring at him, that vigor in her eyes, that excitement. Her ring sparkled in the light streaming in from the window. Her eyes peering into his, he remembered what it was to be loved. Remembered what it was for someone to be so hopelessly, helplessly in love with him. He ran his hand through her hair, smiled up at her.

They laid together silently, happily. He looked into her eyes, felt her hands on his chest and he remembered what it was to be hopelessly, helplessly in love with her too.

* * *

_Song: A Rush of Blood to the Head __by Coldplay_

That was long. Hopefully, you got through it. Hopefully, it was alright.

Review?

Next Up: Taylor and Ryan head to Vegas, try to avoid old demons


	15. Moments

_Chapter Fifteen: Moments_

* * *

What if the storm ends and I don't see you

As you are now ever again?

* * *

She'd refused to drive.

They'd made it to the highway, had been well on their way to the borderline, when the fear had hit her like a bullet train. Nevada was where all her dreams had gone to die; four wheels on asphalt had been the harbinger of their demise.

She'd made him pull over at the next stop, had broken into that hysterical rambling of hers. At first he didn't understand, managed a small chuckle, but then she slid her hand over to his. The firmness of her touch spoke a thousand words. It begged him to look her in the eye, to listen to her words. Hysterical? Perhaps. Important? Of course.

When he looked at her, he realized he didn't need the words after all. Her eyes said it all – said "Not like this, we can't go like this." Without so much as a word, he pulled back onto the highway, headed the opposite direction, toward runways and airplanes.

Breathing a sigh of relief she told him, "Thank you." Her voice was small, soft – he imagined that's how she'd sounded in elementary school when she was still shy and self-conscious. Before those days when she said what she wanted, damn the consequences. Before she stopped caring that people didn't like her, refused to get to know her, and decided that it didn't matter after all. If they didn't care to get to know her, the least she could do was make it impossible to forget her and she'd succeeded at that.

That's the girl he had met: boisterous, opinionated, manic. And even after graduation, when Marissa was dead and he was getting the shit beat out of him every night in cage fights, he still thought of her. Taylor Townsend with her crazy smile and infectious laugh, who had clung to Seth and Summer as if they were her only lifeline. Taylor Townsend who started as their foe and turned into their friend, who kicked off the craziness of their senior year with a bang. Sleeping in that storeroom, he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn't been around. Crazy smile and infectious laugh, or not. Mildly amusing personality, or not. They weren't friends. He didn't really know her, didn't care to know her, and he couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't been around, if Marissa would have been. No Johnny nonsense, no Volchok drama; just the core four, just a normal year, for once. He thought like that until she wormed her way into his heart, broke the impenetrable fortress he'd built up around it. He thought like that until she kissed him in the pool house, worked her spell on him. Until they played seven minutes in heaven and her magic took full effect.

That had been part of the problem after she died. The quiet. He wasn't used to the quiet. He wasn't used to her voice near silence. He wasn't used to her voice devoid of life.

"You're crazy. You know that?" He managed as they started over the Golden Gate.

"I am crazy?"

"Yeah."

"You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This." She shook her head. "This let's go to Vegas and get married thing. This let's act on impulse thing. If I am crazy, then you're insane. I mean, what would your therapist say if she could see you now?"

"I don't know." He thought it over a minute, the words eventually sliding from his lips. "That I was deflecting?"

Her hand shot out to turn down the radio. "Are you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know. Does it matter?"

She rolled down the window. Let the fresh air fill her lungs. Let her heart skip a beat. "I don't know. Does it?"

"I don't think it does."

"No?"

"No. I don't think the why is important. I think it's the action that matters … that doesn't sound right."

"You're on the right track."

"I just, I think we have our whole lives to figure out the nuts and bolts of everything. I think we can deal with that later. And maybe I am wrong, but I don't think I am and I'm willing to risk it. If I told Sheila about this then yeah, she'd probably try to talk me out of it, but for everything we've talked about, for everything she's knows about us, she doesn't know us. Thinking has always gotten us into trouble, Taylor. I am not good with words but it's okay because they say actions speak louder and it's our actions that have kept us together. It's our actions that made us so good together. So, I don't care if this is crazy. I need you. I've always needed you and I want you to know it. I want you to know that I want you. That's it. That's all. That's all I care about. You know they say take it one day at time. Sheila says it all the time. All the time. And this? This is all I have the will to care about today." He took a deep breath and near silence added, "You."

"And that's why I said yes," She closed her eyes and let the moment sink in. She was getting married and it wasn't how she'd planned it and you best believed she'd planned it. She was getting married and it wasn't the happiest day of her life. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it might be the saddest. Growing up she'd lived in books, relished the worlds they took her to, but when she got to those final pages a knot would form in her chest. The end was in sight and however great the story, however great the ending, she couldn't deal with the finality of it all.

Today was no different.

They were getting married, but there would be no riding off into the sunset.

She was dead.

They were moving onto a new chapter and while she appreciated the symbolism, the idea that Aurelia would be pushed aside, that her story had come to an end somehow, killed her.

She realized it wasn't that simple. That this was life not a book and carrying the legacy of a person was different than leaving a world of myth or story and yet, she felt the pang in her chest. She desperately wanted to go with Ryan into the future, but the past was still so visceral. Leaving it behind wasn't something she could just do. Still, she knew in the morning things would be different. In the morning she'd be Taylor Atwood. She'd be a new person. They'd have a new life and if that door was opening, it meant another was closing. Aurelia would soon be relegated to a new place in her heart and that thought tore her apart.

And so today, her wedding day, wouldn't be the happiest of her life.

In the years to come, she knew she wouldn't be able to look back on it unguarded. Wouldn't be able to fully accept it, no matter how great it turned out to be. She was in love, madly, deeply, but for all their happiness there was still tragedy and there was no getting around it.

She took a deep breath in. Looked over at her fiancé with his hands firmly at ten and two, smelt his aftershave, studied his face – let the moment sink in, because if she couldn't have the day, a full day of joy and happiness, she'd have to take the moments. Those little moments where everything felt all right, where the craziness made sense, where he made her feel the happiness she'd thought they'd lost, where the excitement made her heart skip a beat.

Her hand got away from her, rested on his thigh; her eyes stared straight out the windshield, looked toward the future. She let the air escape her lungs and with a small smile tugging at her lips repeated, "And that's why I said yes."

* * *

The perfect halo of gold hair and lightning

Sets you off against the planet's last dance

* * *

_He knew he was in love. _

_They placed her in his arms and he knew; he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. _

_He stared at those wisps of blonde hair and those eyes – so clearly her mother's – and he knew. He was mesmerized. _

"_She looks like you." Taylor told him with a smile. "She's your double."_

_He couldn't argue and he didn't try, barely managed to murmur, "She's perfect." _

"_Yes." Taylor agreed, the tears welling in her eyes. "She most certainly is." _

"_She has your eyes." _

"_She has your everything else." _

"_No." He prodded gently. "That's your nose." _

"_My mom will have a field day with that." Ryan arched his eyebrows. "She always said I'd have a pretty face if I just had a little rhinoplasty done. Then it'd be symmetrical." Ryan gave her a smile. "What?" _

"_I just keep waiting for you to realize how beautiful you are but your mother's done such a number on you that I guess I just have to say it. You are gorgeous, yours is an undeniable beauty, and if it takes the rest of my life, I'm going to make you see yourself how you really are. Make sure you know how beautiful you are." He looked down at his daughter, "How beautiful you both are. We'll just keep the visits with your mom to a minimum. That's probably best for everyone." _

"_Can't argue there. Not that it matters; you're just being nice. That's not my nose. That's all you. She's all you." _

"_You might be right." _

"_I am. Not that I am complaining. It's a great nose. Great face. You're going to have to beat the boys off with a stick." _

"_Oh. I will. The second she turns thirteen, I am investing in a double barreled shotgun." _

_She smiled reaching out her arms. He handed her the bundle and she pulled it tight to her chest. "Hello again." She said softly. _

"_I should probably go let everyone know that everything's okay. You know? Ten fingers. Ten toes. All that jazz." Ryan suggested._

"_No." She motioned for him to sit next to her. "They can wait. They're not going anywhere. Just come sit down. Come look at what we did. Never in a million years did I think I could do anything so right." _

"_Me either." He agreed, joining her on the narrow hospital bed. _

"_But she is. She's so … there aren't even words." She tilted her head up to look Ryan in the eye. "How did we get here again?"_

"_Alien Rave." _

"_Ah. Right. The missing pregnancy test fiasco." _

"_The 'everything but' fiasco." _

"_I don't know about you, but I think it all turned out alright."_

"_Better than." _

"_Yeah." He wrapped an arm around her and she let her body rest against his. Staring down at their daughter, she said, "Welcome to the world, baby girl." Let the tears slide down her cheeks. _

_Her body pressed into his, he realized he'd never felt like this before. Never felt so in love, so unrestrained in his happiness. Her body pressed into his, he hoped the moment would never end._

* * *

Just for a minute the silver-forked sky

Lifts you up like a star that I will follow

* * *

The ringing was driving her insane.

They'd been in their hotel room ten minutes and his phone had rung nonstop. Whoever was calling must have assumed their persistence would pay off, that Ryan would be coaxed into answering, but he wasn't. He sat unflinching, unfazed.

Her eyes stared out at the Las Vegas skyline – she couldn't get past the kitsch of it all. The lies. The fake Eiffel Tower drew her attention. Nothing here was real, the place had no identity. It dressed itself up to be whatever you wanted. Paris. New York. Little LA.

Her stomach twisted into knots.

How'd they get here again? Playing the part of Ryan and Taylor when they were nothing more than shells, the left over pieces of a life gone by.

She turned from the window and caught him staring at her with a smile on his face.

She felt her cheeks go flush.

Maybe they were more alive than she gave them credit for.

On the dresser his phone rang. The caller wasn't giving up. It was probably Seth.

Her hand clenched into a fist despite herself. "You're going to have answer that eventually."

"Oh." He stood up and headed to pick it up. "I can put it on silent."

She stopped him. Put her hands on his shoulders, looked him square in the eye. "No. Ryan, you're going to answer that eventually."

"Taylor…"

"Don't Taylor me. They're your family."

"You're my family."

"Not yet I'm not. And besides, they're…" She struggled to get the words out. Couldn't believe she had to say them at all. "They've always been there. I can't even say that Ryan. But Sandy, Kirsten, Seth… they've always been there and if I am going to be crazy and impulsive with you, I need to know that you're the same guy I feel in love with and that guy? That guy was a protector and a fighter. He'd do anything for the good of his family however stupid." She slid her hand down, rested her palm flat on his chest, and took a step in closer. "So here is what is going to happen, I am going to go find a dress, because as much as I hate to admit it. Hate that I have to buy into the whole fairy tale thing; I can't get married without a white dress. A beautiful white dress that makes me feel like a princess and while I am doing that, you're going to answer the phone and say anything you want, but dammit, you're going to say something. Okay?"

She felt his muscles go tense and his body go stiff.

"For me?" She asked, her lip curling up like it used to, back when they were crazy and in love and he couldn't say no to her.

"Okay." He said through clenched teeth.

"Thank you." She told him, far too quiet for his liking, before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

She grabbed her purse from the bed and headed out the door, leaving him alone with the ringing, the dreaded chirping sound.

He held the phone in his palm for a minute, debated whether to pick up for a moment, but knew he didn't have a choice. She had made the decision and he'd be dammed if he were going to disobey her.

"Seth." He said into the phone. At least, he tried to say, but instead he seethed.

"Ryan?" The surprise was audible.

"Yeah." Ryan knew he was rallying the troops, announcing his victory.

"We've all been worried about you man."

"I am fine."

"You took off..."

"I was upset, Seth, but it's fine. I am fine."

"You should come by then. We've been really worried, you can come by or we can come to you?"

"No. It's… Look, man. I am in Vegas and I am coming back today, but I am fine and I'll make sure to come by soon, but not today."

"You're in Vegas?"

"Uh-huh."

"Las Vegas?"

"Uh-huh."

"Las Vegas, Nevada?"

"Last I checked there was only one Vegas."

"What are you doing in Vegas?"

"Just taking care of a few things."

"Where are you staying? Summer and I could use a vacation anyway, we could join you." Seth suggested, the concern in his voice made Ryan's head spin.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"You going to be back for Kaitlin's graduation on Friday?" He'd forgotten all about that.

He stared at the lipstick stain she'd left on her water glass. He had bigger things on his mind than Kaitlin's graduation. For the first time in a long time, he had her. "I am going to try."

"You're going to try?"

"Maybe you don't remember this, but I haven't had the best experience with graduations. So I am going to try."

"Ryan…"

"Seth. I love you, man, but I really have to go." It wasn't a lie. If she was getting a dress he needed a tux. "But I am fine. I promise I am fine. Okay? Just trust me."

"Okay." He sighed.

"And um… tell Kirsten congratulations. Okay? Just tell them both congratulations." He felt the tears well, used all his might to stop them from falling.

"I will."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

* * *

But now it's found us like I have found you

I don't want to run, just overwhelm me

* * *

_His heart beat hard in his chest. _

_He could hear it, could feel it pulsating his eardrums. _

_He held her as close to him as he could. He couldn't believe how warm she was, how alive she felt. She wasn't an idea anymore; she was real and he thought he'd be terrified, but he wasn't. He was ecstatic. He was in love. _

_He'd never felt like this before. _

_They were sitting in the waiting room when he came out. Summer's head was buried in Seth's lap; both of them had eyes their eyes closed. Julie was mindlessly flipping through a magazine. _

_He looked up at the clock on the wall. Five forty-five. She'd been alive for thirty minutes. They'd had her to themselves thirty minutes, now it was time to meet the family._

_She noticed him before he said anything. Her eyes peeked up from last season's this or that and became the brightest things in the room. "Is this?" _

"_Yeah." He walked toward her. "This is her. This is my daughter." He couldn't believe those were words he could say. His daughter._

"_She's beautiful."_

"_Yeah." _

"_Tiny." _

"_Being born five weeks early will do that to you." _

"_But she's okay?"_

"_She's perfect." _

"_And Taylor?" _

"_Taylor's amazing." _

"_Tired I am sure." _

_He nodded. "And trying very hard not to admit it." _

"_Can I?" She asked, reaching her hands out. He took a step back despite himself. "Later then." _

"_I am sorry." He said earnestly, not fully understanding his reaction. _

"_No. No. I get it. First kid. Believe me. I get it." _

_Her eyes got that tinge of nostalgia in them; that sullen quality seeped in. His mimicked hers. His mind went to her. "Yeah." _

"_I used to think it would be the two of you. I used to think that it'd be you and her here. Not here, but in love, having a baby… far too young." She smirked. "You know, like mother, like daughter." _

"_Me too. I mean not at nineteen, but I used to see it. For a while, you know, her and I, white picket fence and then I realized, Marissa doesn't do white picket fences. Doesn't believe in happy endings and as quickly as I started believing in them – I stopped."_

"_Given everything that happened, can you blame her?" _

"_No. I can't and believe me, I've tried." _

"_Yeah." She wiped a tear from her eyes. "She have a name yet?" _

"_No." _

"_Well, Kirsten and Sandy won't be here for another few hours and I don't think Seth and Summer are waking up anytime soon. Maybe you take her back to her mom. Maybe you two should work on that." _

"_Yeah." _

"_Ryan, honey?" He looked up at her. "You did good." _

_He nodded as he walked away, but for once he didn't need any affirmation. He looked down at her asleep in his arms and he knew. He didn't just do good. He did great. They did great. Mostly, she did great. She did all the work, he'd just provided sperm to meet egg, but he'd take all the credit he didn't deserve._

* * *

What if the storm ends? At least that's nothing

Except the memory, a distant echo I won't pin down

I've walked unsettled, rattle cage after cage

Until my blood boils

* * *

He'd almost crossed the casino floor when he heard his name.

He didn't have to look back. He recognized the voice. Should have known his luck was such that they'd cross paths anytime he was in Vegas. Not that they had had a choice. There was no way in hell they were getting married in Reno.

He turned around, rolled his eyes despite himself, and tried his best to seem happy at the prospect of seeing his brother.

"Hey Trey." He managed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just getting away."

"I tried calling you…" Ryan knew this, screened his calls deliberately. "I heard what happened. Mom told me what happened and I just… I am so sorry."

"It's fine."

"No. It's not."

"No. It's not." He agreed. "But, there's nothing we can do about it. It happened. So. It is what it is."

"I am still so…"

"Don't say sorry. Here's a tip, no one who is grieving ever wants to hear 'I am sorry'. You're sorry? So what? It's not going to fix anything. It can't change anything. I mean if ever they were going to come up with a word to delete from the English language, sorry would be at the top of the list. What does it even mean? It is filler is what it is."

"Right."

"I didn't mean…" He noticed that somewhere in the exchange he'd balled his fists. He did his best to shake them out, to relax, to ease up. "I apologize."

"No. It's cool, man."

"You work here now?"

"Yeah."

"Fancy."

"One of the nicer places I've worked, that's for sure."

"You still deal blackjack?"

"Yeah. I deal a little. I tend bar at his club. Tips are good. They weren't for a while, but it's starting to pick up again. Got my GED. I am going to school. College of Southern Nevada, it's not UC Berkeley, but it's a start. Just really trying to get my shit together."

"Good."

"God this is so…." He could tell that Trey was trying not to cry, trying and by all accounts failing. "This is so weird. You're my brother and I see you and I am so excited to see you. And then we talk and I remember that we're strangers. You and I we're strangers and I know it's my fault. I know I screwed up badly, really, really fucking badly. I know I don't deserve it to be any different and I am standing here and now I am making it all about me and your kid just died._ Dammit_… I just, I wish I were a part of your life. I wish I deserved to be a part of your life. I wish it wasn't like this. And I get it. I don't deserve it, but it's weird, you know? You're my kid brother and at the same time you're not."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I should just go?"

"Yeah… No… Um… she was perfect. My daughter she was perfect and I am sure if she'd gotten older some faults would have emerged, but she didn't and they didn't. And um… I never wanted you to meet her because I thought you'd screw it up. Her. Me. I don't even know. I thought I'd let you into my life and everything would fall apart, so I didn't and everything still did. And I don't know, I think, maybe I project things on to you sometimes that I shouldn't because it's easier. And I wish I didn't, but I do and um, I just… I don't even know what I am saying here really, but I should have introduced her to you. You didn't deserve to know her, but she was perfect and she was your niece and I should have been a proud dad and shown her off to everyone I could, even you. And now, when you have to say sorry or you feel bad, you should at least know what you're saying sorry about. You know. So."

"Yeah." Trey nodded. "I would have loved to meet her. I would have loved to see you."

"So look, um… I don't know how to say this. I don't forgive you. I don't forgive you for what happened to Marissa or for basically trying to kill me or trying to pin your shooting on me, or anything. I don't. And I suspect I never will and that's how that is going to go. It just is and I mean you're the one that has to live with that really, but um… I am starting to realize that life is far more fragile than I thought it was. I am starting to realize that shit happens even when things are seemingly perfect.

"I am starting to realize that I can't keep blaming you for everything – you, mom, dad. I can't. It's not worth it. Life is too short. And really, you're the reason I ended up with the Cohens in the first place. For all the bad you did, you still saved my life… gave me a life. And when you came back? I knew you hadn't changed. I knew and I pretended I didn't because you were my brother… so part of that, part of that is on me. Now, though? I can see that you're actually trying. You really are. I saw it two years ago and I didn't want to admit it and I see it now and we've been talking less than five minutes."

"Yeah."

"I just don't want to hate you anymore Trey. I don't and I don't know how much control I actually have in that, but I am willing to try."

Trey couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then, neither could he; neither could she.

"You really mean that?"

"Yeah." He shook his head, awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets. "I've been in Vegas less than two hours and the first time I leave my hotel room, I run into you. I don't really believe in signs, at least I didn't a week ago, but that can't just be coincidence. It can't. So as long as you're clear that I don't forgive you, that we can't just forget the past and start over, that there will be no blank slate. I am willing to try. I am willing to let you in a little bit."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I have a couple minutes. You want to get a drink?"

"I am actually doing the twelve step thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mom came to make her amends and all that and we went to a meeting and I needed it and it stuck."

"So you and mom?"

"Yeah. We talk on the phone like once a week. We have a lot in common, a lot of the same bad habits, and we're both trying to do better."

"You and dad?"

"He calls every month or so. Sometimes I answer. Sometimes I don't. Mostly, I don't. I used to, to hear about you. But not lately. No. Hasn't been much to talk about."

"Yeah."

They stood in awkward silence but luckily for them, Taylor Townsend had never met an awkward silence she couldn't fill. At least she hadn't in the old days. After Aurelia's death she'd met her match in Ryan – in everyone, really. She looked at the two of them; brothers and strangers, thought maybe she could try again. Maybe today was the day old Taylor Townsend reared her pretty head.

She stepped forward, wrapped an arm around Ryan's waist. He flinched despite himself. He wasn't used to her touch. "Sorry." She said retracting her arm.

"No." He stopped her, locked her appendage in place. "Surprised me is all."

"Hi Trey." She greeted.

"Taylor… I thought you were in France."

"Oh. It's a long story. I…" She began.

"She was. Now she's not." He interrupted.

"Not that long."

Trey pointed to the garment bag she struggled to hold up. "Should I grab that?" He didn't wait for an answer, took it from her before she could respond.

"That's really sweet of you." She gushed.

"No problem. How long you've been back?"

"Three days. Give or take."

"Three days and you two just run off to Vegas, for what? Shits and giggles?"

"No. We're making it official." She told him.

"Official? As in married official?"

"That'd be the official." Taylor nodded.

"I thought you ran out on him." Ryan's eyes went wide. "Mom said you ran out on him."

"Mom might not have told the whole story." His voice had more anger than she liked.

She placed her hand on his, squeezed his palm in a way that begged him to calm down. "I took a job in France. I still have the job. There is a lot to figure out. And your mom is right, you know? I left. I didn't run out, but I did leave. I was always coming back. Things were bad, you know? Things were bad. We were both not … we weren't as present as we should have been. We couldn't deal. And I am not saying there is a magical cure. I am not saying that we're even close to being there yet, but the thing is we're willing to try. I came back because Ryan needed me and I realized instantly that there is no place I'd rather be. That no matter how much I tried to sell myself on France it wasn't right and this is where I want to be, where I need to be. This is where my life is. And this morning, we decided we were going to commit to commitment. We were going to commit to trying. You know? Commit that we're always going to be there for each other even when things are hard, even when everything hurts. And everything still really hurts … but we couldn't do that five months ago. We couldn't and now we can and I am not going to say that this isn't maybe crazy or seemingly ill planned but it's right. So that's why. You know? You'll probably have to explain this to someone at some point. Your mom who thinks I ran out and who will surely think her son is certifiably insane… and maybe he is… but that's why we're getting married. That's the idea at least. Committing to trying and maybe that makes sense and maybe it doesn't – but it certainly feels right."

Trey smirked. "You know, I always knew I liked you. I mean we only really met that one time, but when mom called or Frank and they talked about Ryan and Taylor, I could tell you were special. I knew. I knew that I liked you."

"Thanks." She blushed.

"And of all the crazy things Ryan has done … and believe me he's done a lot … this one isn't so crazy."

"That's true." Ryan agreed.

Trey looked at his watch. "Ry, it was great to see you. We should talk before you leave, if you have a couple minutes, but my shift is about to start. So I have to go."

"Yeah." Ryan nodded, took the bag from his brother.

"Wait. Trey?"

"Yeah."

"What time do you get off work?" She asked.

Before he could answer, Ryan shot her a look. Managed to mutter under his breath, "What are you doing?" Trey awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, tried to pretend he couldn't hear him.

"You said you didn't want to hate him anymore. You said you wanted to try, wanted to let him in a little." She said softly, squeezed his hand. "Just trust me, okay?"

"Okay." He breathed.

"It's just we're getting married at nine and we need a witness. It's nothing. You just stand there, sign a few papers, but if you were free. I mean this obviously isn't what I dreamed my wedding day would be like but it's starting to be everything I never realized I wanted, except the idea of some stranger as a witness, some Elvis impersonator…"

"It wouldn't be an Elvis impersonator." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"The point is the whole two person wedding thing is what we wanted. It's what we want and that's great, but it can't just be a two-person thing. State doesn't allow it, so we need a witness and I personally would love if it weren't a complete stranger. And if you're free, well, you're the only person we know and I would grateful. So, maybe you could figure something out?"

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Um hmm."

"You're okay with that, Ry?" His voice was shaky.

He shrugged. "It's just signing a few papers."

"Exactly." She nodded enthusiastically. "So, can you?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I can move some things around, figure something out."

"Great. We'll meet here at eight-thirty."

"Okay." Trey nodded, shell-shocked; his head bobbing up and down and his mouth repeating okay over and over again as he walked away.

When he was gone, his eyes dug into her. "What'd you do that for?"

"I did it for toy Camaros and brothers that were but aren't." He continued to stare. "I did it because words are one thing and what you told him was really nice, but words are one thing and actions are another and you and me, Ryan? We're big with the actions. So when you tell me you want to try and we decide that looks like wedding rings and Vegas chapels, I am all in. And when you tell your brother you're willing to try, that you're willing to let him in a little, just the tiniest bit, that's got to look like something. I am all about symbolism and that needs a symbolic start and so, he gets to be our witness. You got a problem with that, maybe you're marrying the wrong girl." She shrugged.

"I don't and you're not." He pulled her in close, kissed her cheek. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough. I hear all Ryan, shouldn't you know that by now?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "You found a dress?"

"I did. We can now elope in style."

"I don't have a suit."

"Yeah. You do. In the bag."

"You got me a suit?"

"A beautiful rental."

"You're sure it's the right…"

"Are really asking me if I know your measurements? Who do you think you're talking to? I sized you up the first time I met you."

"Right."

* * *

I wanna see you as you are now

Every single day that I am living

* * *

_Her head was buried in his chest. _

_He watched her with a smile on his face. In the back of his mind were all the jokes that had been made on his behalf, Kid Chino who scowled never smiled. He wondered what happened to him. Sitting next to her, arm clutching her, that person seemed like a far off memory, a ghost. Sitting next to her, he couldn't scowl if he wanted to; couldn't will the smile from his lips. _

_Her eyes stared down at their daughter, tiny, unnamed. Every few seconds they'd drift close, she'd get closer and closer to sleep, but she couldn't be persuaded to drift away. She was as stubborn as she'd always been. _

_He squeezed her arm gently. "It's okay. You can get some rest. You deserve to rest." He said softly, prepared to move, to get up from the bed and scoop his sleeping daughter in his arms. _

_Like always, she read his mind, pushed her body harder into his, prevented him from going. "No. I am fine. Just taking in the day." _

"_Maybe you could take in some shut eye." _

"_I will. I am just letting it come naturally." _

"_Letting it come naturally?" He felt her nod. "That why you keep forcing your eyes open?" _

"_It's just, I want her face to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I want this day to be about her and me and you and how perfect everything feels right now. How perfect my life feels right now, because I never knew it could feel like this. I never knew I could feel like this and if I have to go to sleep and I get it, I am almost there and I have to go sleep, but if I have to go to sleep, have to cut a few hours from this perfect day, I want her face to be the last thing I see and I don't think that's so crazy. So it will happen when it happens and until it does, I want you behind me and I want to see her in my arms." _

"_Okay." He whispered into her hair, his hand reaching up to play with the strands. _

_As usual he couldn't argue with her logic, didn't try._

* * *

_Song: The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?) by Snow Patrol_

So it's been two months. Where does the time go? Hopefully someone out there is still reading this. If so, review? This was originally supposed to be one chapter culminating in Ryan and Taylor's impromptu wedding, but I was rereading what I had so far and noticed that it was already 6,000 words and didn't want to do two 12,000 word chapters in a row. As such, look for the second half of this shortly and to any of you who might have found the last three chapters too sentimental, know that after the second part of this is posted, real life begins. And marriage, of course, is not a cure-all.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter.


	16. Dream

_Chapter Sixteen: Dream_

* * *

Girl come to me in a dream,

And I don't even know her name.

A pretty mark upon her breast

To signify her from the rest.

Her and I are just the same,

Building bridges out of fame.

She stands upon a dinner plate

And tells me that I'll have to wait.

* * *

"What did you tell him?" She was sitting crouched over on the bed, painting her nails a bright red color.

"Who?"

"Seth. I am guessing it was Seth. The repeating of phone calls like that requires some experience with monotony. It's something I would do and Seth and I have taken monotony in spades."

"It was Seth."

"I know. What'd you tell him?"

"Not to worry, that I was upset but I am not anymore, that I'd swing by when I got back into town…"

"You told him you were in Vegas?" She asked surprised.

"Umm hmm."

"What'd you say you were doing? Getting hitched to the one that ran away?"

"You didn't run away."

"No. I took a brisk walk away."

"Taylor…"

"What? I did, right? That's what everyone says. I ran like Flash Gordon. I couldn't get away fast enough, like I decided you weren't what I wanted anymore, like I was making a conscious effort to make things worse for you. I mean that's what they all seem to think, isn't it? Summer, Seth, your mom, Trey."

"First off, you should never listen to anything Trey says. It's a recipe for disaster…"

"What happened to letting him in a little bit?"

"Right, I am letting him a little bit, but I told him flat that I can't forget the past and I can't and based on that – listening to Trey is a recipe for disaster."

"Still."

"Still nothing, Taylor. I pushed you away before you left. I pushed you away. I decided I needed Kirsten and Sandy. I wanted nothing to do with you. I saw her in you. I know, I know, you always said she was my double and she was, but for everything I saw of myself in her, I saw you too. I saw you more. Her smile. Her laugh. Those were all you. The way her nose would crinkle when she cried. The expression her face would get when she was surprised. So many things and we're not even talking about the big thing. Her eyes. You two have the same eyes and she may have had my nose. She may have had a lot of my facial features, but none of that matters when she had your eyes. You know? I never got why they said that the eyes were the gateway to the soul or whatever and then she died and I got it. Every time I looked at you I felt haunted and I couldn't handle it, didn't want to handle it. I just thought it was easier to avoid you, because you reminded me of her and it killed me."

He paused, looked on as her hands got shaky, watched as she started to cry. She put the brush back into the bottle of polish, narrowly avoided dropping it and getting a red stain on the bright white hotel sheets. He scooted in closer to her, grabbed the bottle from her hand and dropped it on the nightstand, pulled her into his chest.

"It doesn't matter what they say. Okay? It doesn't and they're starting to learn. Right? Summer knows. Seth. But don't worry about anyone else. If they think you ran out, then fine. They don't matter. You know? They can say you ran out on me all they want, but I am sitting here and I am telling you that I know the truth. And the truth is what happened between us was reciprocal. It wasn't just you. It was me too. And I wanted it to be just you. I wanted it to be your fault somehow, because I couldn't deal with anything – sure as hell couldn't take responsibility for my actions, but I couldn't even fault you. It wasn't your fault. And if they don't get that, that's on them. They weren't there. They see me and see the guy with the hero complex and in a lot of ways they're right to, but after she died? I couldn't be a hero to anyone. Sure as hell didn't want to be one for you. I had no drive, but they don't see that Ryan. They've seen and they're always going to see the one trying to keep everything together, to make everything okay for everyone else, and that hasn't been me in a while. The protector? The fighter? That hasn't been me, but I am changing that. Today, I am fighting for you and if they don't get that, they don't get that, but they don't matter. No one matters today, except us."

She put her hands on his shoulders, pushed away from him softly. Tilted her head up to look him in the eye. "Us." She repeated with a laugh. "I was starting to think there'd never be an us again. She died and even before I left it was like you were gone. It got to the point that I thought that the life we'd had was just a dream. I thought I was embellishing, making everything better than it was and then I left and realized that we were so lucky for so long. Everything was right for so long. I wasn't making things better than they were, things we're just that good."

"I know."

"Things will probably never be that good again."

"Maybe not, but they can still be pretty great."

"You think?"

"I think." He leaned in until their heads touched.

"You're not just saying that because I am here and you don't want to lose me?"

He shook his head. Their foreheads rubbed together. "You're here and I don't want to lose you, but that's not why we're doing this. I was waiting for you. My life is with you and I can't move forward without you. And now that you're here, we can try being people again. We can try to live our lives again and I think eventually, eventually things can be good again. Things can be great again and even if they're not as great, they can still be pretty damn great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's not the same thing, but when Marissa died, I never thought I'd get over it. I never thought I'd be able to just live and love again and then there was you, and you saved me Taylor. You saved me from myself. And this is so much worse, but you're here and I'm here and I think if we work hard enough, I think we can save each other. I think we can have a life again."

"To think, you're the same guy that I had to try and get drunk to tell me you loved me. You're the same guy that gave me a dictionary because you were too scared of what your real gift would mean."

"No I am not. That guy was scared of spending his life with you. I am not that guy. Not anymore. I am scared of spending my life without you. I'm…."

She cut him off. Pressed her lips against his before he could say another word, slipped her tongue in before he could come up for air.

"No." She agreed, when she set him free. "You're not that guy, are you? That guy wasn't good with words."

"No?"

"No, but you are. I can't even begin to understand how we went from silence and avoidance to here."

"Well you know what they say."

"No? What do they say?" She asked.

"You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

"That's for sure." She thought of her. The tears she'd stopped from falling started again.

He pushed some hair out of her eyes. "Hey." He said softly. "Don't."

"You're right." She wiped at the tears. "I can't do that every time something has a double meaning."

"No. You can't."

"Especially not with that." Her hands fell to her shirt. "That was really sweet." She pulled it over her head.

"What are you doing?"

"Reminding myself how good it can be to be with you." She said softly. Leaning in and kissing him slowly and methodically. Her hands pulled at his top, worked to get it over his head.

When it was skins, no shirts, she moved to unhook her bra. "Wait." He stopped her.

"What?"

"It's bad luck to see the bride." He murmured coyly.

She shook her head. "I think we've had our share of bad luck and I am probably wrong, but lie to me. Tell me you think we've run through all the bad. Tell me there's only good left." She was on the verge of tears again. She pretended not to notice, but so was he.

He let his head fall into hers, felt their foreheads touch. "I think we've run through all our bad luck." He said softly. "I think there's only good luck left."

Coming from his lips, it didn't sound like a lie. Coming from his lips, it sounded earnest and truthful. Coming from his lips, it put her mind at ease. She allowed a smile to spread across her face and with this, he moved his hands to her back – unhooked her bra for her.

* * *

Wait for me,

I know it won't be easy.

What a thing to believe in a dream.

* * *

"_Ryan?" He heard from the doorway. _

_He looked up, wanted to put a finger in front of his lips, murmur shh, but couldn't figure out the best way to balance her in one arm. He tilted his head toward the bed, did his best to highlight that Taylor was asleep – finally. _

_Unsure of whether they got it, or whether they'd feel compelled to care, he headed to the door, ushered Kirsten and Sandy into the hall. _

"_Hey." He said when the door closed behind them. _

"_We're sorry it took us so long to get here." Kirsten started. He'd been right. He couldn't trust her to control her octave. _

"_It's fine." He said softly. "I missed quite a bit myself." _

"_We heard." Sandy told him. "But you made it?" _

"_I did." He smiled. _

"_That's all that matters." _

"_She's beautiful." Kirsten said, reaching her arms out._

_He took a step back. He still didn't understand what had gotten into him, understand why his first reaction was to step away from the people he loved, to hold her even closer to his chest. "Sorry." He muttered in a daze. _

"_It's fine." She smiled, rested a hand on his shoulder. "There's always tomorrow."_

"_Yeah. Tomorrow." He looked her in the eye. "Tomorrow's better." _

"_What's her name?" Sandy asked._

"_She… uh… she doesn't have one yet." He shifted his attention to him. "Tomorrow." _

"_Tomorrow." He nodded, looked down at the little girl. "Well, there is certainly no denying that she is yours." _

"_Yeah."_

"'_Cause she's you in miniature." He added. _

"_She has Taylor's eyes."_

"_And your everything else," Kirsten said with a smile._

"_So I've been told." _

"_How is she?" She pointed at the door behind him. _

"_Taylor is…" the words got caught on his lips, he chuckled. "Taylor's great. She…" He was at a loss for words. "She's really great." _

"_Well, there's nothing like having a kid with someone to remind you of all the little things you love about them." Sandy managed. _

"_Yeah." He nodded, stared down at her. "That's for sure." _

"_I am proud of you son." He felt Sandy pat his back. _

"_For what?" His eyebrows arched. "Getting a girl pregnant at eighteen?"_

"_I wasn't much older than you when we had Seth," Kirsten reminded him. _

"_And you two are making it work, you're figuring it out and you're doing a damn good job of it." He glanced over at his wife. "I thought it was Seth and Summer, but I don't know, you and Taylor might be poised to be the next Kirsten and Sandy Cohen." _

_Ryan smiled. "Don't tell her that. You'd never hear the end of it." _

"_Oh, believe you me. That's a mistake we will not be making." Kirsten said softly. She put an arm around him, ushered him toward the waiting room. "Come on. Seth wants to meet his niece." _

_Niece. The word kept repeating in his head. Niece. When Trey got locked up, he thought his brother was gone. When Trey came back and hurt Marissa, he'd declared himself an only child. He always forgot Seth. Always forgot the Cohens. He stared down at his daughter, his flesh, his blood – reminded himself that blood alone didn't make family. Reminded himself that Kirsten and Sandy were his parents, his real parents. Reminded himself that Seth was his brother, his real brother and that Summer was the sister he'd never had. Reminded himself that his daughter was their granddaughter and niece. _

_Reminded himself that she was an Atwood, but far more importantly, she was a Cohen too. _

_He thanked God for that._

* * *

Perhaps I knew her long ago,

I wrote her poems at 9 years old.

But then I did become a man,

And let her slip right through my hands.

I practiced all my wit and charm,

Had many girls on every arm.

I learned the depths of love and hate,

But never did learn how to wait.

* * *

He stood in front of the alter, hands tense at his sides.

His eyes shifted across the chapel. It wasn't what he expected. Less tacky. In need of a paint job, sure, but not the way all the movies made it seem. It was romantic. Charming in all its flaws, quaint. Then, in the movies people had generally loaded up on Johnny Walker and Jim Beam. Not them. They were sober. They were trying for spontaneity and romance.

The room was empty. It was he and a justice of the peace in the front, and Trey in a pew in the back. Ryan didn't have to tell him where to go. They walked in and he knew. He was a witness, not a groomsman, not the best man and he could see from the back just as easily as from the front. Ryan added this to his mental list of ways Trey had changed over the years; he certainly wasn't as delusional as he'd once been.

He waited for her impatiently. Fists clenching and unclenching, eyes shifting forward and back.

"Nervous?" The justice asked him with a smile.

"No." He sputtered quickly. "Well, maybe. I don't know… waiting has never been my strong suit."

"Well, it wouldn't be a wedding without the build up."

"Right." He took a deep breath in, held it unsure when to let it go but then he saw her, let the air escape his lungs, felt his heart skip a beat.

Her dress was strapless, eggshell white, and out-of-place. It was elegant, it was beautiful, it was dramatic. It was her. It was not this chapel; it was Paris in the springtime, Newport in the summer, it was mushroom leek crescents and crab and brie filo. The bodice fit tight against her chest, intricately detailed, the skirt a-line; train long enough to add a dramatic flair, short enough for perfect posture and easy movement.

His eyes lit up. He imagined the smile on his face was big and goofy, but he couldn't control it – couldn't will it into submission or wipe it from his face if he wanted to. She looked beautiful – hair coiffed, curls framing her face, styled perfectly in front of her shoulders.

He didn't understand how she looked as amazing as she did, how the dress fit her like a glove, how her makeup was flawless. After all, people spent months figuring all that out, in and out of fittings, days spent rushing from salon to salon; they'd had less than twenty-four hours and yet, there she was. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised, after all, this was Taylor Townsend – love of his life and still all mystery, still the closest thing to magical he could imagine.

If she'd been in Atomic County, she'd have been the only character with multiple powers. She'd need multiple, to explain all that she could do, all the ways she could save the day.

Right now, she was practicing her siren song, drawing him in more and more with each step she took and yet, there was no fear. Where most sirens were harbingers of doom, she was to be his salvation.

She was inches from him now. He felt a pang in his chest, wished she had had someone to walk her down the aisle; her dad was probably in San Diego playing computer backgammon not giving her a second thought, it sickened him. He thought of Aurelia dressed up in all white on Chrismukkah, thought of all the times he'd imagined this day for her, hated that Taylor's father surely never did the same.

She stopped in front of him, looked him in the eye, and gave him a smile. She cupped her hands in front of her. Stood perfectly still, went on staring at him hopefully, looking beautiful, demure.

He wanted to lean in and tell her how amazing she looked, how in the short time it took her to walk down the aisle, he felt hundreds of things he didn't think he could feel any more, but there was no time.

The service had begun. He rested his hands at his sides, heard, "We are gathered here today…"

He almost wanted to laugh when he heard we. What we? But then he looked at his bride and the world went still. For a moment, it was him and her and no one else, and everything was exactly as it should be.

* * *

Wait for you,

You say it like it's easy to do.

What a thing to believe in a dream.

* * *

"_You know, at some point we're going to have to give her a name."_

"_No." She told him sarcastically. "I didn't realize. I thought we were just going to call her baby girl for the rest of her life." _

_They were standing in the hallway of the maternity ward, looking at their daughter surrounded by all the other newborns. _

"_Haha." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. "You think, I don't know, maybe we should come up with something?" _

"_I don't want to fight." She told him. "All these kids shouldn't have to spend their first hours on Earth listening to us fight. Not fair." _

"_We're not going to fight." _

"_We fought the last time." _

"_That was then, this is now." He rested his head on her shoulder. _

"_What's so different now?" _

"_Off the top of my head?" _

"_Uh-huh." _

"_Well… we have a baby now and last I checked the law requires that we name her." _

"_When did you start caring about the law, Mr. Car Thief?" _

"_You think you're funny don't you?" He chuckled. _

"_Maybe. You know what my mom told me when she found out we were dating?" _

"_I am not sure I want to know." _

"_Once-a-felon-always-a-felon." _

"_I was never a felon."_

"_Try telling her that." _

_He laughed. "Well felon or not, that little girl right there…" He pointed at their bundle, swaddled in pink, in the front row. "Is in desperate need of a name." _

"_She has a name." She thought aloud. _

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Hmm?" She said, arching her eyebrows and looking up confused. _

"_You said 'she has a name'. What do you mean, she has a name?" _

"_I mean… nothing. I didn't mean anything." _

"_You obviously meant something." _

"_No." She shook her head. _

"_Taylor." He scolded playfully. _

"_I saw her and this name came into my mind and that's what I've been calling her in my head for the past twenty-four hours." _

"_Mind sharing?" He prodded. _

"_No." She broke away, turned to face him. "Because I really like it and you probably won't and then we'll be back to square one except, I'll be sad and then we'll definitely fight." _

"_But… what if I liked it?" _

"_You won't."_

"_Why so sure?" _

"_You didn't like any of the other names I picked out." _

"_Not true." _

"_Really?" _

"_Yeah. I liked…" She ushered him to finish his statement. He had nothing._

"_See what I am saying?"_

"_You weren't exactly in love with anything I came up with either." _

"_I liked Madeline." _

"_You didn't love Madeline."_

"_No." _

"_But you love this mystery name?"_

"_I kind of do, yeah."_

"_Then maybe I will too. You got to give it a chance, Taylor." _

"_I don't…" _

"_Otherwise it doesn't even have a shot. What do you want me to do, guess it?" _

"_That'd be the ideal." _

_He vigorously shook his head. "No. See, you can read my mind. I can't read yours. It doesn't work that way."_

"_Right." She sighed. "Just promise to give it a chance, okay? Just think before you judge. That's all I ask." _

"_Okay." He agreed. _

"_Aurelia." She said softly. _

"_Aurelia?" He repeated. _

"_It comes from the Latin. It means golden and you put her in my arms and I couldn't think of a more perfect, more golden moment. She is one day old and I can already tell, she's amazing. She has a bright future ahead and all that glitters might not be gold, but she is. She's golden and I want to remind her of that everyday of her life. When the world gets her down, I want her to know that there are two people who think she's the most precious thing there is, because she is. And I am not saying I ever was, but there's nothing I wouldn't have given growing up to hear that my mom was proud of me, or that she had faith in me. Nothing. And I never got that, but I can give her that. I can give her that everyday in everyway, but when I am not around I want her to know. She's special and being special is a good thing." _

"_Aurelia?" He repeated._

"_Yeah." Her gaze fell to her feet. "Oh God, you hate it, don't you? You hate it. I knew it. I should have just kept it to myself that would have been better than facing rejection. It would have. I should have just…" He put a finger over her lips, pushed her chin up._

"_Aurelia Jane Atwood?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_I think we have a name." _

"_Seriously?" _

"_Yeah. I mean it's something I never would have thought of and I sure as hell never would have guessed it, but it's a good name. It's a great name and then you explain it and it fits. It's right. Aurelia Jane Atwood." He paused. "It rolls right off the tongue." _

"_It does, doesn't it?" _

"_It does." He slipped his hands around her waist again, held her tight, kissed her cheek. "That wasn't so difficult was it?" _

"_Certainly less painful than I expected it to be." _

"_Now, I am going to say this again and I know you don't want to hear it, but I am going to say it. I am sorry that I was in Fresno when you went into labor. I am sorry I turned off my phone. I am sorry I fought with you to begin with. I am sorry about everything." _

"_Stop, okay? It's fine. It's more than fine. It's water under the bridge." She looked up at him, waited for his eyes to meet hers. "And Ryan?" _

"_Yeah?" _

"_You're not your father. You are not your father and you are never going to be your father. You don't have to worry about that." _

"_I know." He nodded, and for the first time he was sure. For the first time, the words weren't an automatic response. For the first time, he really knew._

* * *

I have you know that all my life

I have been searching for a wife.

A partner and a confidant,

A girl who wants the things I want,

A girl who doesn't come along,

'Cause she's already where I'm going.

Stand upon a broken stage

I beg you darlin' please, please wait.

* * *

They had one picture of their wedding.

His arm wrapped around her waist, her head on his shoulder, the bright white of her dress piercing the night sky.

He stared at it intently, they looked happy – smiles genuine, gazes longing. He didn't think he'd see them like that again.

He looked over at her dress hanging on the closet door, listened to the water running in the next room. She was there and although it'd been a few days, although they were now husband and wife, he couldn't believe it. She'd come back to him. He wasn't used to that. He was used to people leaving, never to be heard from again.

Not only that. She'd come back because he'd asked her to. He used his words and for once they had power; for once his emotional appeal didn't go array.

He thought back to her vows, the parts he could understand at least. She'd begun and concluded them with French poetry. He'd only caught every other word, but he could tell whatever she was saying she was passionate about, whatever she was saying she meant.

His smile had expanded with every foreign word, he hated France – hated that the country had taken her away from him – but adored her. And her vows? They were all her. After Aurelia died he worried he'd never see the women he'd fallen for again. He worried she'd lock herself away somewhere deep inside, but the last few days had proved him wrong, tonight had been all he hoped it to be – more even. Tonight had provided evidence that despite it all, they were the people they had been on January nineteenth – sadder, thinner, but fundamentally the same.

In his head he heard her say, "I remember the first time I saw you. It was the first day of sophomore year and I noticed you immediately because you were new and it wasn't everyday Harbor got new students. You were wearing a white undershirt and a green top and your hair was shaggy. The shirt was tight enough that you could see how muscular you were underneath and I had to try hard not to think about all the things we could do when my mom was at yogalates during comp lit. It was a struggle to say the least. I remember seeing you talk to Seth and thinking it was my year. Seth was more of an outcast than me and if he had managed to make a friend I was next. I knew it. I just knew. I was wrong of course. Sophomore year wasn't my year. Junior year either. No. But I wouldn't have it any other way, because the way things went, I didn't get a year. I got a life. You're my life.

"Before you, I always thought in the short term. You know? Even when I got married to Henri, I thought in the short term. To him it was love and marriage and to me it was, maybe I'll do this and I'll feel a little less lonely for a while. It was never like that with you. You saved me. You saved me from my marriage. You saved me from myself. You kissed me and the world popped into Technicolor. It was no longer just about the thing that led to the other thing. No. You kissed me and suddenly it was about you and me and keeping alive everything we had, that we could have. It was like I found a part of me that was missing. I found my other half. I remember that day you helped me – which was really the first time we'd hung out, just you and I. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder what it would have been like if we had just talked in high school. Just once, just for real. It probably wouldn't have ended well, but I'd give anything to have known you then. To have spent more time with you. Anyway, I remember telling you that I was agnostic in most things, but that I believed in true love and I did and I do – and I wish I had known when I said it that it was right under my nose. What I didn't believe in were soul mates. No. That was too hokey – even for me.

"But I am looking at you now and I can't help to think that maybe Plato was right. Maybe we are destined to spend our lives looking for our other half, the other part of ourselves, the one person that can fill the void. I mean I was fine before I met you and I thought when I left that I was doing the best thing for everyone, but everyday I was in France was a struggle and not just because of her. No. It was a struggle, because my heart ached for you. I missed you and I am not saying I was myself before I left, because I wasn't, but when I was in France, I felt less and less like myself everyday. I was floating into a sea of anonymity. I was adrift and I started to think I'd never feel like myself again, but then I came back. I came back and I saw you and I started to feel all that I had lost. You're my anchor. You accept me for who I am unconditionally, but beyond that, you keep me grounded. I need you in my life. You are my life and when she died, I started to think that it was the death of us to, but it wasn't.

"We're here and we can't start over, but we can keep trying, we can keep going. We can be. And I am a planner and I planned this happening a different way, a different time, with more people around, but it doesn't matter. When I am with you, I don't need a plan. I don't and I don't know what the future has in store and I can't promise that the road won't be bumpy, but I vow to love and honor and cherish you. I vow to be with you in sickness and in health. I vow that there is no place I'd rather be and no one I'd rather be with. I vow to keep building a life with you, to not stop building a life with you until death parts us. I vow to fight for you, for us. But mostly, I vow to be with you. Just be. Because when I'm with you everything feels like it'll be all right and it might not be that simple, but I know that we can make it that simple. Together we can make it all okay. And it's with that knowledge in my head and my heart, with that trust in you, in us, that I marry you today."

In his head he could still see the way her eyes lit up when she spoke; could still see the sparkle in them. He could see the belief she had in the words and that's what he needed because after she died, they stopped believing. He stopped believing in her, in himself. She did the same. But when she came back, he didn't have a choice. He had to believe. She made him believe in the impossible. And standing in front of her, watching the light in her eyes, the tears – for once of joy – stream down her face, he knew she did the same; knew she believed in him, put her trust in him. Knew the words weren't empty promises.

His own vows had been much shorter.

He'd told her. "The day I moved in with the Cohens was, at the time, simultaneously the best and worst day of my life. The best, because I got a family that cared about me, that supported me, that had faith in me. The worst because I left my other family behind, because they left me behind – some mixture of that. And I used to think nothing could be better or worse than that day. Nothing – but since I've been with you? There have been a slew of days that have topped it. There have been innumerable moments that have made me happier than I thought possible. What you've done for me, the ways you've supported me, the ways you've thought of me, the way you love me is above and beyond anything anyone deserves, certainly, far beyond anything I thought I deserved. And today my life changes. Today, a new day replaces my best day, replaces my worst day. Currently, the dreaded January 20th, because entering this new chapter with you means leaving the last chapter behind and with it her, not her memory, but her – but it also means committing to you. It means being with you, it means that it's you and me against the world, and you are all I need. And I promise to love, honor, and cherish you for richer and for poorer in sickness and in health until death do us part. I promise to build my life with you, to build memories with you, and moments, and to work at giving you a day you deserve; one day of happiness that is never marked with sadness or tragedy - because they say your wedding day should be the happiest day of your life and we both know this is never going to be it. And maybe I can succeed in that and maybe I can't, but I promise to try. I promise to spend my life trying to give you all that you deserve – and you deserve so much. I promise to never let you go again. I promise that no one has ever and can never make me feel the way I feel around you. I love you Taylor Townsend and I vow to never stop."

She'd said hers first and when he started, he worried his weren't long enough, weren't eloquent enough, weren't sentimental enough, weren't what she wanted to hear. But when he spoke he saw it in her eyes, saw it in the expression on her face; they were enough, he was enough. She was happy.

He heard the bathroom door open, placed the photo carefully on the desk, and sat back on the bed. His hand tugged at his tie, loosened the knot he'd made hours ago. When they got back to the hotel room, she'd been quick to take off her dress. Well, quick to get him to take off her dress, but he hadn't been as lucky. She'd requested that he stayed put, stayed in suit and tie and he had, but he was starting to get antsy, was starting to wonder why he obliged.

And then he saw her, wrapped up in black lingerie: knee-high stockings, garters with their suspenders, high waisted panties, lace bra, and a pair of heels for good measure. She was a dream in La Perla – hair still perfectly coiffed. She was a dame from a film noir; his fantasies come true, walking toward him slowly, seductively.

She stopped in front of him, bent down, undid his tie for him, said, "Hello, Mr. Atwood." Voice low, raspy.

He put his hands on her hips summoned her closer. "Hello, Mrs. Atwood." He said softly.

She blushed.

He decided the day had been better than he'd thought it'd be.

* * *

Wait for me,

I know it won't be easy.

What a thing to believe in a dream.

I believe in a dream.

* * *

_He handed her over begrudgingly. The Atwood scowl was back. Taylor shot him a look, silently told him to cool his jets. He did his best to smile. _

_Kirsten cuddled her tenderly, showed the same care and affection she would have shown her own daughter. That helped a little, helped ease the pain of sharing her. "Hello…" She began, looking up from the little girl, unsure of her name. _

"_Aurelia." They told her in unison. _

"_Aurelia." She repeated. "That's nice. Hello Aurelia." _

_The door opened slowly, the mob shuffled in. Sandy, Seth, Summer, Julie, and Kaitlin, coming forth slowly and quietly. Frank wasn't around, hadn't been around since the first night. Ryan thanked God for small favors, because if there was one person he didn't want holding his daughter, it was Frank. If there was one person, he couldn't will himself to trust, it was Frank. _

_He might have been reformed, but that didn't change the past – couldn't remove the memories from Ryan's head. _

"_We're sharing, I see." Sandy said from his cup of coffee. _

"_We had a long talk." Taylor told him, wrapping an arm around her boyfriend, the father of her child. "Discussed how we couldn't keep her to ourselves forever." _

"_I still beg to differ." Ryan muttered. She rolled her eyes. "You have to have two hands for a reason." _

"_Regardless, we agreed it was time to show her off." _

"_That's good." Kaitlin smirked, "Because I didn't fly all the way up here to look and not touch." _

"_Yeah." Ryan began sarcastically, "I am sure the forty-five minute plane ride really took it out of you." _

"_Hey. I had tickets to see Arcade Fire at the Baitshop, but Taylor had to have the kid a month early. If I am here and not there, I should at least get to hold her. It's only fair."_

"_I don't know if I trust you." He said smugly. "You've got slippery fingers." _

_She shot him a look. He shrugged innocently. _

"_Doesn't matter, she's not next in line. I am next." Summer said enthusiastically. "I've been here the longest…"_

"_Actually, I've been here the longest." Seth interrupted. _

"_What? You want to hold her next?" She challenged him. He stayed silent. "That's what I thought. Like I was saying, I've been here the _second_ longest. I am the aunt and the best friend. My turn." She put her hands out. _

"_Just a minute." Kirsten shot her a look. "Grandmother trumps aunt everyday of the week." _

_Summer nodded in defeat. _

"_You two come up with a name, yet?" Sandy asked, obviously amused by the show._

"_Aurelia." Ryan told him._

"_Aurelia Jane Atwood." _

"_Jane?" Julie asked from the corner of the room, surprised. Kaitlin joined her, wrapped an arm around her, rested her head near her shoulder. _

"_Yeah." Ryan said, a soft smile spreading. _

"_That's nice. Jane. Aurelia Jane. I like it." She said. _

"_I'm glad." Taylor managed, suddenly feeling guilty for protesting against the name in the first place. The look on Julie's face was happier than she'd seen in a while. It was proof that Ryan had made the right choice; that even though she'd never been close to her, Marissa deserved a legacy. _

_The room fell silent. _

"_Okay." Kirsten eventually said, looking up from the little girl. "I've filled the need for now, who's next?" _

"_Me." Summer said stepping forward. _

_Sandy put a hand on her shoulder. "No." He said shaking his head. "You'll have to wait your turn. Grandfather trumps aunt everyday of the week." He scooped the bundle into his arms. _

_She took a step back – trademark Roberts's pout on her face – defeated._

* * *

_Song: Wait for Me by Motopony _

Review? - S'il vous plaît

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I am glad you're still reading!

Rose Scott: I plan to continue and when the end does come, sooner rather than later, to have a nice neat ending.


	17. The Void

_Chapter Seventeen: The Void_

* * *

We salute at the threshold of the North Sea in my mind

And a nod to the boredom that drove me here to face the tide and swim.

I swim. Oh, swim.

* * *

"You don't have to change your name, you know?" He told her softly.

She was laying in bed on her stomach, scantily clad in her underwear – black, her signature. Feet pointed at the ceiling, hands flipping through a book; the title French he couldn't comprehend. He watched her. He always watched her these days. He still couldn't believe she was back, but then it had been less than a week. _Fuck_. She'd been back less than a week.

How were they here again? How was it all wedding rings and underwear? He wondered if this constituted a honeymoon, holed up in a Las Vegas hotel room. It wasn't what she'd once expected, that he was sure of. She probably imagined them honeymooning in Italy, Greece… _France_. Henri had given her Burgundy. That was one part of _A Season for Peaches_, he knew had been true - the two of them spending a week in that little village, finding all its nooks and crannies, literally rolling in the hay. All he'd given her was room service and a view of the fake Eiffel Tower.

"I know." She said looking up from her book. "I want to."

He was flat on his back, head crocked so he could see her. "Why?"

She scooted in closer to him, put a hand on his chest. He was shirtless, wearing only boxer briefs. Her reading hadn't been productive with him next to her, she kept imagining he was a professional soccer player and she was a French fan girl about to make her wildest dreams come true, to cross a name off her 'list'.

His eyes shifted to stare down at her nails, bright, red, perfectly manicured. "Because I believe a name should mean something." She said with a shrug.

"I don't…." he began.

"You were a really good dad." She cut him off, the words soft, sullen. "It was like I watched you and all those classic sitcom dads made sense for the first time. Because I used to watch Nick at Nite and TV Land and I never got it. The parents, the relationships they had with their kids, it never made sense. And then I met Sandy and started to realize, 'Oh, some people do get good dads' and then we had her and I watched you morph into everything I never had. And I think names should mean something and Townsend? Townsend means nothing. I am supposed to what, spend my life attached to a name that means nothing, stuck with a reminder of the man who decided early on he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me? _I think not._ But you? I love you and the past two years, you've just illuminated the fact that my dad was not a dad; he was a sperm donor, that's all. And I don't want to spend my life with some imaginary attachment to him. I want a name that means something."

"You never talk about him."

"My dad?" He nodded. "There's not much to talk about."

"I know, but you tell me everything."

"He's forgettable." She said, voice quiet. "Besides, you've never asked."

"Did you ever tell him?"

"About Aurelia?" He nodded.

She shook her head. "The last time I saw him was graduation. He said he was coming. He promised he was coming. We never talked really, but I made a point to tell him that I made Valedictorian. I thought he'd be proud of me. Sometimes, I think that's why I tried so hard to be perfect in high school. The reason I was kind of a bitch, I wanted to have things for him to be proud of." She paused, came closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her, stared into her eyes. Pushed a few strands of hair out of the way.

"I thought 4.0, 2400, Social Chair, Debate Club, Academic Decathlon, fluent French, Spanish, and Korean… it sounds silly, but I thought they'd make him love me. One of them at least. Something at least, but that was just teenage naiveté. Nothing more. And I called him the day it was official, the day I was really crowned Valedictorian and I met with Doctor Kim about my speech and he didn't seem to care. Couldn't be bothered to care, but he promised to come and he didn't. _Nope._ So I drove out there to see what was so important that he couldn't spare a few hours of his day and he was in the living room with his wife and his new kids watching a movie. I think it was _Fantastic Four_, you know? It wasn't even a _good _movie. I wasn't more important to him than a bad movie and I realized that he didn't love me and that he'd never loved me and it was cathartic.

"It's possible I found a rock and threw it through the window and we just stared at each other for what felt like hours and his new kids asked who the crazy girl was and why she'd thrown a rock at their perfect house in their perfect suburb. It's possible that I went to my car with the newfound knowledge that my 'siblings' had no idea who the hell I was and it's possible that I keyed his car for that. But whatever, it was cathartic. And the next day, he transferred a rather large sum of money into my bank account. The next week, I used that money to leave for France early. Later that month, in a haze of loneliness and desperation I married Henri. But no, we haven't talked since. Not once. And really, we didn't even talk then. Just stared."

"I am sorry." He rested a hand on her cheek.

"Don't be." She shook her head, relished the feeling of it rubbing against the warmth of his palm. "The day I learned blood alone didn't make family and that you could make your own… let's just say things got a lot better and he never loved me. Not really. I mean I am sure somewhere deep down, but not really and if that's the case, why do I want to be a Townsend? What loyalty do I have to that family? To that name?"

"None." He told her.

"You're my family, Ryan. Aurelia or not, you're my family and if I have to share a name with anyone, I want it to be you."

"Yeah." He said in a daze. He leaned in and kissed the top of head. "I ever tell you about the day my dad was arrested?"

"No." She said surprised, eyes going wide. "And I've asked."

"I was eight…" He began.

* * *

Dip a toe in the ocean. Oh how it hardens and it numbs.

The rest of me is a version of man, built to collapse into crumbs.

And if I hadn't come down to the coast to disappear

I may have died in a landslide of rocks and hopes and fears.

* * *

When he woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed had been made, it was like she'd never been there at all, but she had been. He knew that. He'd woken up to her nearly nude, staring at the ceiling, the past two days. She'd turn to face him, flash him a smile, tell him, "We should work up an appetite before breakfast." And they had.

He hadn't expected today to be any different, but it was. She wasn't there.

He knew there was probably a logical explanation for this, but he couldn't help it. His stomach churned. His head ached. He didn't think he ever had to worry about her leaving again.

He sat up in the bed, pulled his legs into his chest, rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. _Where was she?_

He stared at the band on his left ring finger, took it as a bad sign that he was this concerned that she wasn't next to him when he woke up.

There's a logical explanation, he told himself.

The previous night, he'd bared his soul. He'd done what he told Sheila he was going to do. He told Taylor about Fresno, told her about Chino. He told her his past, the good, the bad, the mostly ugly. Had it been too much? He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he couldn't help it. He'd never shared that much of himself with anyone before. _Never_. And this was his reward? An empty bed?

He let his mind race. Let his thoughts go wild. He knew there was a logical explanation, but in the moment he didn't care, couldn't be compelled to care. He just had to let all the scenarios play out in his head.

This is why he ran. It was only time he had a release from his thoughts.

He was on scenario number six – in which Taylor gets a late night call from Henri-Michel and takes off in the middle of the night to be with him – when he heard the door open.

She had coffee in hand and a manila folder under her arm. "Good morning." She greeted with a smile, still not as wide as it had once been, back when they couldn't get enough of each other, when her leaving was a non-thought.

"Where were you?" He couldn't mask the alpha male in his voice.

"Where was I?" She mocked, handing him his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

He stared at her blankly. He hadn't seen her fully clothed in days. Hadn't expected to see her fully clothed today. He had expected there to be more lounging around in their underwear, in the buff, eating room service, talking, having sex. "Yeah."

"I was getting coffee." She told him with a shrug. "Which is a thing I've been known to do." She sat down at the foot of the bed. "You thought I left, didn't you?"

"No." She shot him a look. "Well, yeah, but I didn't mean to. I knew deep down that there was a logical explanation." She continued to stare. "Like coffee."

"I am not leaving Ryan." She pointed to the rings on her left hand. "For better or worse, remember?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"I thought that had been the idea."

"It was, I just… I panicked."

"You panicked?" He nodded again. "You can't panic every time I'm gone."

"I know." He said earnestly. "I am sorry."

She leaned in, put her hands on his shoulders, and squeezed tight. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

"It's not?"

"I know, shocker, right?" She joked. "No. It's not. We've been holed up in here and its been very hot, very _Last Tango_, but that movie ends with Marlon Brando getting shot."

He looked at her confused. "Hmm?"

"What I mean is, this is fantasy. This is not reality. Your big, sweeping romantic gesture to run off to Vegas and get married? It was amazing. It was, but we're really good at hiding, Ryan. And we can't do that. So, I got up this morning and I got coffee and I went to print these off." She handed him the folder.

"Boarding passes?"

"We're going home." She told him. "If I am going to be married to you, it's going to be in the real world, not smutty, role-play Vegas world. If we're going to try to live our lives, we have to start by living our lives. That means, you, me, home. That means Kaitlin's graduation this afternoon."

"Kaitlin's graduation?" She nodded. "How did you know it was Kaitlin's graduation?"

"Seth has been texting you like crazy."

"You read my texts?"

"Someone had to." She told him. "Besides, what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine."

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"We can't keep living in the void. We have to get back to reality. That's the first step toward having a life, again."

"Okay."

She kissed his cheek. "Plane leaves at eleven. Get dressed. We don't have that much time."

He lifted the blanket off of him. "Are you sure you don't want to…"

"No more hotel sex. If we're going to have sex, it will be normal, married people in our own bed sex. No more void." She told him sternly. "Now get dressed."

She stared at his ass in his boxer briefs as he walked away. She hated his boxer briefs. Hated how good he looked in them. When she heard the bathroom door shut, she fell face down onto the mattress and whined into the bed.

She was going to miss the void.

* * *

So swim until you can't see land.

Swim until you can't see land.

Swim until you can't see land

Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?

* * *

"_Where's Ryan?" She asked, peering into the kitchen. She was bouncing the baby in her arms. Seth still wasn't used to there being a baby. Then there wasn't much to be used to; she was a tiny thing, two weeks old. _

_He pointed at the living room. "We were playing Halo and his guy died pretty quickly and he might not be the best player, but he's better than that. Anyway, I looked over and he was asleep. I left him there. It's been like an hour. He hasn't moved." _

"_Oh." She said, running a hand through her hair awkwardly. "Sorry. There hasn't been much sleep in our house lately." _

"_It's fine." He shrugged, popping open a can of soda. "I'll be in Rhode Island at the beginning of the month and there will be no Seth and Ryan time until the holidays. Him passing out when we hang out now? It's good practice." _

"_Right…" she sighed. "But see, Summer's leaving for G.E.O.R.G.E soon and school is right around the corner for both of you and these next few weeks are going to fly by from all the stuff that everyone has to do and Summer and I were kind of hoping to have a girl's day. You know, minus the littlest girl. Kirsten and Julie are coming and they even made us spa appointments and Ryan was supposed to watch her. Just for a couple hours and he's asleep and he deserves to sleep and…"_

"_Are you trying to ask me if I'll baby sit your kid?"_

"_She is your _niece_." _

"_True." He shook his head. "I don't know. Me and a baby just doesn't seem like a good combination." _

"_You'd be fine." _

"_What if I dropped her?" _

"_You wouldn't." _

"_Yeah, but what if?" _

"_It's not going to happen." _

"_I am prone to breaking vases." _

"_She's not a vase. She's a child."_

"_Yeah and I don't want to break your child."_

"_It'd be fine and her dad's right there, so if anything seems like it's going to go wrong, you can wake him up. Think of it as a trial run. A no pressure gig." _

"_I don't…" She pouted. "Fine." _

_He put the soda can on the counter and held out his arms. _

"_No. Not like that." She said disapprovingly. He made a few more shapes, her head slid back and forth. "No. Just copy what I am doing." _

_He obliged, she handed her over carefully. "What now?" _

"_Well, I just fed her and changed her. So that's taken care of for a while. Her diaper bag is by the front door; there are bottles… really anything you could ever hope to need, and in the front pocket there's a detailed list of instructions, bottle temperature all of that. So… watch her, make sure she doesn't die. That's it. It's a no pressure gig, you know, her daddy's right there. Just support the head. That's the most important thing. I have faith that you can figure the rest out." _

"_Right…" _

"_You're freaking out." _

"_Kind of." _

"_Okay. Um…" She began, trying to think of the best option for everyone. "I'll just wake him up."_

"_No. I can do this." The front door opened._

"_Are you sure?" _

"_No." _

"_What's going on in here?" Sandy asked, walking into the kitchen._

"_Summer, Kirsten, Julie and I were going to have a 'Girl's Day', well 'Girl's Afternoon' and Ryan was supposed to watch the baby, but he's asleep and I don't have the heart to wake him. And I asked Seth, but he's worried he's going to drop her because he's 'prone to breaking vases' and now I am trying to figure…"_

"_You want me to watch her?" He offered._

"_Really?"_

"_Of course. Been meaning to spend some more time with the girl."_

"_You are a lifesaver." She smiled. "Just remember to support the head."_

"_I've held an infant or two in my day." _

"_Right." She resisted the urge to kiss his cheek. "Thank you so much. Her bag is by the front door and I have my phone and Ryan is right there, so I trust that everything is going to be okay… I have to trust that everything is going to be okay." She paused, looked between Sandy and his son. "Could you just take her from Seth before I go? All that talk about dropping and he's holding her at a weird angle and what if he doesn't support her head… could you just."_

"_I am standing right here." Seth muttered, handing the baby over. _

"_Okay." She nodded. "Now it's okay." She walked in and out of the kitchen a few times, before she psyched herself up to go. "Thank you!" She called from the foyer. It was another few minutes before they heard the front door shut. _

_When she was gone, Sandy shook his head at his son, gave him a hard pat on the back. "She's not a vase."_

* * *

Up to my knees now, do I wade? Do I dive?

The sea has seen my like before though it's my first and perhaps last time.

Let's call me a Baptist, call this the drowning of the past.

She's there on the shoreline throwing stones at my back.

* * *

They had to traverse a few aisles before they found them in a row near the front. He looked around. He forgot how different public and private school were, even if Kaitlin's was one of the best in the country. Harbor's graduation had been a fifth the size.

They stopped a few rows back, looked on, there were two seats saved.

"I thought you said they didn't know I was back." Taylor asked confused.

"They don't."

"Then why are there…"

"I don't know." He shrugged, looking at his watch, "But we're already late, so we should sit down."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"You can't? What happened to all that talk about facing reality? Leaving the void?"

She looked at him seriously. "How could you not know?"

He didn't understand at first, but then his eyes flashed on Kirsten, stomach slightly round, bump still small, but noticeable on her meager frame. "I don't…"

"Because it's pretty obvious. I didn't expect it to be so obvious. But it is and I thought I'd have time to adjust, a month or something, but I don't and…" She was crying and the words got progressively harder to understand. "I don't know if I can be around her right now. I thought I could, but I am looking at her and all I can think is how much I miss Aurelia and how much I hate her and I don't hate her… she's Kirsten and she's great and I don't hate her, but right now, that's all I can think and she doesn't deserve that, so I should just go home and we can meet later."

"No. This is reality. I am buying into your shit and this is reality and you have no choice. So."

She wiped at her eyes. "This is reality?" He nodded. "Then how did you not know? I mean, seriously?"

"She didn't look like that when I left."

"Right? So the bump just magically appeared in the last seven days."

"Yeah?" He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. Even he didn't believe what he was saying. She shot him a look. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe… I've only really been able to focus on one thing for a while, so maybe it was right under my nose and I didn't notice."

"You've only been able to focus on one thing?" He nodded. "What does that mean?"

"You really have to ask?" He stared at her blankly. She made no attempt to respond. "Are you forgetting the part of the story where you went to France? Because that's kind of all I could think about for a while. You. France. Not here. Me alone, not sure how to get you back. Maybe I was distracted." He shrugged.

She kissed him, slowly, passionately. It almost felt like it used to. "Fine. Go sit down. I'll clean up," she motioned to her face, "and be there in a minute."

"If you're not back in five minutes, I am coming to find you."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I only need two."

* * *

Swim until you can't see land.

Swim until you can't see land.

Swim until you can't see land

Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?

* * *

_She'd been seconds from sleep when it happened. She grabbed one of the pillows from behind her and pressed it onto her head, as if it'd do something to stop the noise, as if it'd make it all a dream. It didn't. "Why?" She whined, freeing herself and dropping the pillow on Ryan in the process. _

_She looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. She hated two in the morning. _

_She moved to get up, but he reached an arm out, stopped her. "I'll go." _

"_No." She shook her head. "You have class tomorrow. The first day of college is big and you have to do well, because with tastes like mine we're going to need all the money we can get." _

_He chuckled through closed lips, leaned in and kissed her forehead. "It's fine. I wasn't sleeping anyway." _

"_Do you have insomnia again?" _

"_Not if you're going to pretend to be my sleep therapist, I don't." She shot him a look. "Just first day jitters. You said it, the first day of college is big and I am not going to be able to sleep. So I'll go and you'll sleep and at least I'll be doing something productive." _

"_Productive? What were you doing before?" _

"_Counting the popcorn on the ceiling." _

"_Yeah." She agreed with a nod, grabbing the pillow from his lap and putting it back over her head, pressing it hard into her face. "You can go." _

_He walked down the hall far more energized than he expected to be, than he should have been. Entered her room with a "Hello there," bent down and picked her up. She squirmed in his arms, screamed in his ear. "Nice to see you too." He said as he started to rock her. _

_The wailing continued. "It's a good thing I love you." _

_He took her downstairs. He'd recently perfected his one armed, but still neck supporting hold. He wished someone were around to see how easy he made it look. Seth would be impressed; his record for holding her without freaking out was only up to four minutes. _

_He prepped a bottle for her and sat down on the couch with her in his arms. He bent his knees, let her rest in the space between his legs, and feed her while flipping through the television channels. She quieted down immediately. "I see how it is." He murmured._

_He eventually found a channel he liked and dropped the remote. "This is _Gladiator_." He told her. "It's about a General in the Roman army … well, long story short, it's about a gladiator. Your mom probably wouldn't like that we were watching this, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her. That man there?" He said pointing at the screen. "His name is Russell Crowe. Your mommy likes to say that we look alike, well, that I look like him when he was young. I don't see it, but she means it as a compliment, so what are you going to do? Anyway, he's the gladiator – Maximus Meridius and when you're older if you ever go to mommy and daddy's room and hear mommy say 'Oh. Max!' Really, any variant of Maximus or Meridius, knock, because it's special grownup playtime and you don't want to see that anymore than we want you to."_

_She stared up at him, silent, content with her milk. _

_He smiled at her. He was nineteen, he was starting college in less than eight hours, and while that could have meant dorms, roommates, keg parties, and sex with random coeds, for him it meant a house on a quiet suburban street, with a girl that loved him asleep upstairs and their newborn daughter drifting towards sleep in his lap. _

_One look at her and he knew, there was no place in the world he'd rather be. _

"_This is my favorite part…" he began, eyes shifting back to the television screen._

* * *

Now the water's taller than me and the land is a marker line

All I am is a body adrift in water, salt and sky.

* * *

He sat down as inconspicuously as possible. Didn't work. They noticed him immediately. Seth looked at him with bewilderment in his eyes, Summer flashed him a smile. Sandy and Kirsten, nodded in acknowledgement, but gave him his space. He looked at his watch; the ceremony should have started five minutes ago. Why hadn't it started? He needed it to start. He needed to postpone talking to everyone another few hours.

"I didn't think you were going to make it." Seth started. _Too late. _

"I said I'd try."

"Cut it pretty close."

Summer punched Seth's arm. He winced. "You still beat the Bullitt. So, you're not that late."

"The other chair is for Bullitt?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason." He could feel the sweat start at his forehead and his hands go clammy. He was nervous. Where was she? She explained things better. He stared at his watch, why hadn't the ceremony started, yet?

"You have somewhere to be?" Seth asked.

"No."

"Right." Summer said incredulously. "How was Vegas?"

In his head he saw his bride looking up at him with _that_ smile, saw her in high-heels and lingerie, saw that look on her face when he told her all the things he'd kept bottled inside. "Vegas was great." He said absentmindedly.

Summer couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Ryan say great, couldn't remember the last time he'd spoke in positive terms about anything. "Really? You win a lot of money?"

"Didn't do that kind of gambling." There was movement on stage; he breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost time.

"What other type of gambling is there?" Seth murmured.

"I don't know." He sighed, putting his hands up to rub his temples.

He realized almost immediately that it had been a bad idea; it was too late though, she saw it. "What's that on your finger, Ryan?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" She scowled. "'Cause, it doesn't look like nothing and if we discount the whole 'chocker, wristband, I am a bad boy phase' – and we should – I've never seen you wear jewelry."

"It's just a ring." Molten lava spewed from her eyes. "We'll talk about it later."

"No." She began trying to keep her voice low enough that she didn't draw unwanted attention. He looked around, but was too out of it to tell if she'd been successful or not. "I think we'll talk about it… Taylor?"

That garnered a parade of looks down the line: Seth, Kirsten, Sandy, Jimmy, Julie, and Frank all turning to face her. She sank into the chair, nodded ever so slightly at them on her way down.

"He was in Vegas with _Taylor_?" Summer punched her boyfriend's arm again.

"Ow." He said shaking it out. "It's not like he told me she was there."

"Wait a minute…" He didn't like where this was going, but luckily her voice got quieter as she spoke. In the moment, he missed the old Summer, whose deductive reasoning was underdeveloped to say the least. He looked at his wife; she'd sunk so low she was almost on the ground. "You were in Vegas with Taylor and now you're wearing rings? … You got married?!"

Her voice rose with the last question and down the line it started, eyebrows raising, eyes widening, lips rounding.

They stayed silent. Didn't acknowledge it, stared straight ahead. On stage the principal started to speak.

He inhaled sharply.

Saved by the microphone.

* * *

_Song: Swim Until You Can't See Land_ _by Frightened Rabbit_

Review, please? Reviews are love.


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